


Hunted

by ChrysCare



Series: The Hunted [1]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-02
Updated: 2018-04-03
Packaged: 2018-04-29 15:06:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 35
Words: 91,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5132027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChrysCare/pseuds/ChrysCare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Praxians are not seen as mechs to most of Cybertron, they are seen as animals. They are hunted for their crystal armor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

He watches from the trees as the silver and black outsider walks through the paths of the crystal gardens. He shouldn’t be here, at least that’s what his Sire and Carrier say, but how else is he supposed to observe the outsiders? They once flourished here until the outsiders learned of what their armor was made of and then the hunt started. That first hunt ended so many Praxian lives, he lost siblings and his creators kept their remaining creations locked inside their new home underground until two of them moved to their own clan, leaving him with his creators. That is, they thought they had their creation locked in the home. His name means silence, it means hidden one.

The outsider glances around, seemingly lost and from the looks of its frame size, it’s only a vorn or two older than he is. He slips around the base of the crystal tree, keeping the other in sight as they travel down the path of the gardens. They reach the fountain that serves as the gateway to their underground world and the outsider’s world, not that the outsider knew that, it is just a fountain to it. The outsider sighs and falls to the base of the fountain. He slips around the crystal bushes to get closer to the outsider; this is the closest he’s ever gotten to one. 

“Jazz!” another outsider yells, still a ways off but close enough to make him flinch and retreat back into the dense brush. The small outsider moans and rolls on the ground, he tilts his helm at the action the outsider takes. What did that mean? Never has he seen one do that. A larger outsider walks up into the clearing of the fountain. Gold optics shining bright in the dimming light of the orn, is it that late already? He glances around, thinking he should get home now but still wanting to watch these outsiders. “There you are, Jazz. What have I told you about running off like that?”

“Not to,” the smaller outsider sighs and hangs its helm. He smells the old stench of Praxian Energon on the new outsider and takes extra care to not to make any noise, not that it would matter because his armor has the ability to absorb noise in a certain distance from him. He peeks through the bush at the two outsiders, the smaller never smelling of old Praxian Energon, which meant that the younger was not a hunter yet. 

“There are monsters out here that wouldn’t think twice in hurting you,” the larger outsider grabs the smaller’s wrist. He winces at the action, if the hunter acted that way towards someone of its own kind, what did it do to Praxians. 

“I don’t see any monsters,” the smaller mech glances around before looking up at the other. He takes in his surroundings as well to come up with a clean scan of no predators. “I just wanted to see a Praxian.”

“Why don’t you come out with your weapon next time then? Then you can keep the Praxian as long as you like.”

“But I don’t want to kill one,” the outsider frowns and pulls away from the larger one. He hums slightly; the smaller one didn’t want to become a hunter. Why would it want to see a Praxian? “I just want to be friends.”

“There is no room to be friends with Praxians, they live to be hunted for their armor,” the other says before pulling the small silver and black one along. He frowns as the older one disregards the smaller, why would an outsider want to be friends? Would it become friends and then stab the Praxian in the back? “Next time bring your weapon.”

“Yes, Sire,” the smaller one sighs, glancing over its shoulder at the fountain. He flinches as it calls the older one Sire. His own Sire wouldn’t approve of what he’s doing either. He watches them leave toward the outsider’s city. 

He turns away from watching the outsiders, so much for observing this one; the outsider’s programming will call for it to kill a Praxian now. He slowly makes his way to the tunnel systems that will lead him home. The crystal trees hum and the crystal leaves chime as he walks by them, they fall against his plating as he passes under low branches. He comes to the slightly hidden entrance of the tunnels, hidden behind a fallen rock containing shards of crystals. He descends down into the dark tunnel. Each step takes him further into the darkness. 

“Have fun?” the Praxian guard asks as he passes by the only mech who knows about his habits. The only one who would know first if something bad happened to him and the only one who might come to his rescue. 

“I lost an outsider,” he responds, helm hanging low and he glances up at the Praxian guard. “It’s Sire came and told it to kill Praxians next time.”

“That’s what they do,” the black mech smiles lightly at the black and white winged Praxian though his wings are hidden. “Better get home before your creators know you’re gone.”

“Yeah, thank you,” he smiles up at the guard, only wingless Praxians serve as guards and the Praxian’s defense system. As a little sparkling he always wanted to become a guard, but then his wings formed. The doorwings form about two vorns after they separate from their carrier’s spark. Some Praxians can hide their wings. It’s a special talent that few have the patience and endurance to perfect. Most would rather stay in the safe confines of their city underground. 

“Adventure warms a cold spark,” the guard calls over his shoulder. He smiles as he makes his silent way down the darkened tunnels, another defense they had against the outsiders. It’s told that the outsiders rely heavily on their optics and in darkness they can’t see very well. Praxians use their sensory panels to see in the dark so, if an outsider did find the tunnels, Praxians could move around without the outsiders even knowing. 

He nears the carved out house he lives in with his creators. Each Praxian home is carved out of the metal rocks which covered this underground cavern. So much work came from tunneling and carving out livable spaces after the hunt. His home, like all others, is blue metal rock with evidence of the picks that carved it out. His window is the only window on this side of the house because the rest is under the ground. The front of the house, which faces away from the tunnel, has three large windows. His room is at ground level so it makes easy entry and exits for such observations like this previous one. 

Even here is dark, though with the ever glowing street crystals cast just barely enough low light to see a few pedes around the lights. The neighbor’s house is just a half a pede away from his as is all others, the cramped quarters of the tunnels cause it to form a maze which gives them a sense of security. Outsiders could get lost if they ventured further into the tunnels. 

He slips quietly into his room from the window he left unlocked, sensory panels fold out from behind his back as he crawls under the thermal sheets of his berth, the sound of his Sire walking up the stairs comes pulses later. The door opens and his Sire smiles at him, he smiles back and stretches as if he’s just onlining. 

His room is quaint and takes up the whole second floor, not that it was big. They couldn’t, as Praxians, afford having large houses. The only furniture in his room is a desk, a shelf, two counters for storage and his berth. He has room to move around comfortably as there is enough floor space open for two Praxians to lie on the ground. 

“Did you have a restful recharge?” his Sire asks as he sits on the edge of the berth. The berths in the Praxians homes are of their softest material any other furniture is carved out of the metal stone. He nods, smiling a bit at what his Sire doesn’t know. “Your Carrier’s warmed your Energon, better hurry before it gets cold.”

“I don’t want that,” he jumps out of his berth and runs down the stairs, silence traveling with him even in the safety of his home. Sensory panels bounce on his back as he runs down the rickety metal stairs of their home. The stairwell is dark and curves slightly before being able to see the downstairs. He turns right and enters the small kitchenette, too small to even have a full table where all three can sit at. His Carrier has already left for his work at the Enforcers and the warmed Energon glows in the darkened room, pink steam dancing over the top of it. He grabs the cube and takes it across the hall to the sitting room, where four metal stone chairs sit around a stone table, all connected to the ground and unmovable. His Sire comes down and brings a cube of regular Energon to sit across from him. His hums go unnoticed, the sound not even breaking the barrier of his armor’s absorption. His sensory panels reflect how much he loves warmed Energon by fluttering on his back as he sits in the low backed chair. 

That’s why his designation means silence. That’s why he’s called Prowl.


	2. Chapter 2

The following recharge cycle for the Praxians comes and he glances around his room, the door is locked, the window is unlocked, nothing more than to turn on the crystal light and leave. He steps up to the window, pulls his sensory panels close to his back and opens the crystal window. Looking around the street outside, there are no mechs around. He slips out of the window, silently falling to the ground a few pedes away. He slips through the streets of the quaint little village, the neighbors turn off their lights. He stays near the shadows as the ever lit crystal lights shine down on the streets. There is no star light here. Their night is during the outsider’s day while their day is during the outsider’s night, it’s the only time for them to get food from the outside world. The guards are the hunters on their off shift. The guards also don’t need to recharge like the winged Praxians. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” a rough, new voice of a guard halts him in the tunnels. Ironhide’s post, but this is Ironhide’s off shift. This is also a new time for him to go out to observe the outsiders. It’s not safe for a Praxian to be out during the outsider’s day. 

“I . . . I wanted to go outside,” Prowl frowns as the guard walks up to him, sensory panels trembling slightly in their position against his back. The mech’s red and white armor glistens in the light of his post, crystals along the wall of the tunnel lighting the area around them. The crosses of a medic stand out on his armor. He sighs. “Ratchet, you scared me.”

“Someone has to keep you on your pedes,” Ratchet smiles and Prowl relaxes, shoulders dropping from his rigid posture. “Go on, get back on Ironhide’s shift, I don’t want this coming back on me.”

“Thank you,” Prowl smiles and takes to the darkness of the tunnels. A little known fact of guards and their post, there are two guards per post, they tend to be mates and they tend to see things like each other. Prowl’s tunnel’s guards just happen to have known him since he was a sparkling. They even allowed him to stay with them when his creators were working. That is why he wanted to become a guard, he knew all they did. To the outsiders, guards were just a lesser kill; the prize was sensory paneled Praxians, for Ironhide and Ratchet to let him out into the outside world means that they trust him to not get killed. They normally only reserve that trust to fellow guardsmechs. 

As Prowl reaches the edge of the tunnel, the morning light of the early orn spills into the tunnel a few pedes, the star slowly rises along the crystal mountains, the rainbows refracted in the misty clear surface makes Prowl smile. The Praxians have all but forgotten how beautiful their city-state was. Praxus was one of the most beautiful places on Cybertron when the Praxians thrived. Now where the main hub of the city was is now overtaken by outsiders and the crystal buildings are all stripped of their crystal surfaces and replaced by dull, boring metal. He reaches the fountain as the crystal trees start their star rise song, another’s presence causes him to stop in the tree line. The silver and black outsider sits on the fountain wall humming to the tree’s songs. The same outsider who was told to kill a Praxian when it saw one. 

Prowl slips along the tree line, the black part of his armor turning gray to help blend in to the trees as his white turns a misty clear, another trait which would have made him an excellent guard and in the vast storage of archives he alone is the one to possess it. No other mech in the history of Praxus has ever been able to change their armor so much and so often but other Praxians don’t know of his ability. He spots the outsider’s weapon, a small crossbow. Not that it would do a lot of damage, but given the right arrows it could leave a clean pierce through crystal armor. The outsider holds a data-pad and stylus, scribbling something on the screen then glancing up and then returning to scribbling. Prowl stops with a clear view of the outsider, the light shimmers over the outsider’s frame, some places on the other’s armor looks as if there are small crystals imbedded within it. He moves to the outsider’s back, no sensory panels means he can sneak up on the other to watch it closer. Through his whole observation time, he has not once seen an outsider with sensory panels. 

Every Praxian is trained how to fight as a sparkling in the instance that they are found by an outsider and in case they are Praxian guards. He could swiftly kill this outsider without alerting any other in the vicinity but he chooses to watch him. He climbs on the other side of the fountain, the pure blue water separates him from the outsider, his crystal armor changes to light blue and dark blue as he silently passes through the first veil of water. He walks under the dome created by the water being shot into the air and falling back into the pool. His frame drips with water, those drips are silent as well; his frame absorbs the sounds within his surroundings and his direct actions. He reaches the veil nearer to the outsider, silently breaking through; he peers over the outsider’s shoulder. The fountains shadow hiding his own, sensory panels folded to his back, something few sensory paneled Praxian have learned.

The outsider stops scribbling on the screen, looks up and around before hesitantly going back. Prowl inches forward, a pede or so between them to see what the mech is scribbling down. If it is the outsider’s language he wouldn’t be able to read it, but it’s not. It’s a drawing of the crystal trees in front of the outsider. He gasps quietly, the only sound he’s made viewing the outsiders. This outsider jumps, grabbing its crossbow and pointing it at him as it turns around. Prowl freezes, staring at the other with bright gold optics, armor still dark blue and light blue. The outsider drops his data-pad and Prowl slowly backs away, taking the other’s hesitancy to his advantage. 

“Wait,” the outsider says, crossbow still pointed to him as it steps up to the fountain wall. Prowl glances at the bow then to the other’s blue visor. The visor is made of sapphire crystals. The same color as his armor now. The outsider glances at the crossbow in its servo and tosses it to the ground. “I don’t want to hurt you. Will you come out?” 

Prowl shakes his helm as he nearly disappears in the blue water. The mech climbs up on the fountain wall and makes his way through the veil of water. Prowl backs around the center of the fountain but it continues to follow him. 

“Please, I don’t want to hurt you,” the other says, it continues to follow him. “My name’s Jazz. What’s yours?”

Prowl growls lightly, a warning for the outsider to stop. The rumors of Praxians being less of a mech and more of an animal to be hunted are only as much as a mech believes. Sure they can act like animals, they have claws and can growl, but in their society they are termed mechs. The outsider stops at the growl and Prowl jumps out of the fountain, smashing the crossbow with his pede so the outsider cannot use it. Now he is the lethal party in play, he can control who lives and who deactivates. 

“Come on, I won’t hurt you, see you broke my weapon, I’m defenseless now,” the outsider holds up its servos as it climbs out of the fountain, a sign he’s learned to be surrender from the outsiders. To Praxian’s it’s a sign learned to kill. Prowl leaps toward the other, it stifles a scream as they tumble to the ground. Instead of the outsider putting its servos on him to fight back, the outsider puts them over its mouth, frame shaking under him. “I’m sorry . . . that was completely amazing . . . I shouldn’t be laughing . . . I should be screaming . . .”

Prowl tilts his helm at the other’s reaction to being nearly pulses away from deactivation. He continues to pin the other to the ground until the one from the previous orn starts calling for this outsider. 

“You should leave, my Sire’s coming,” the outsider puts its servos on his chest and pushes him. He climbs off the outsider, still watching it as he retreats to the tree line. The outsider’s Sire comes into the clearing, a frown on its face as it looks at its creation’s weapon.

“Your crossbow is broken,” the larger outsider crosses its arms as Prowl watches it near the smaller outsider. He partially hides behind the crystal tree, armor already taking the color of the tree and that of the scene behind him. 

“I know, I fell on it,” the smaller outsider sighs as it looks down at the weapon. Why would the outsider lie to its Sire? Did it truly not want to kill Praxians? “I was practicing fighting, you know, in case a Praxian attacks me. I kinda lost my balance and fell. I’m sorry, Sire.”

Prowl touches a crystal tree as he leans closer to watch the outsider’s leave. The smaller outsider mentioned nothing of him. Why would he do that? The smaller outsider glances over its shoulder and looks directly at him, broken crossbow in its servos. Prowl notices the data-pad is still on the ground near the fountain and once the clearing is empty, he makes his way to it. The crystal tree seems to glisten in the frozen light of the picture and Prowl’s thumb accidentally hits the arrow button and the picture changes to that of a quaint little house in the middle of a crystal forest. He frowns slightly; he likes the crystal tree better. He presses his thumb down again and the picture changes to that of an outsider, he realizes it’s the smaller outsider’s sire and drops the data-pad, hissing at the outsider as he retreats to the fountain and behind the veil. Glaring at the data-pad, nothing happens, the outsider doesn’t attack him, nothing happens. Prowl slowly slinks closer, one clawed servo cautiously batting at the data-pad, it makes a noise as it slides but nothing else happens. 

He taps the arrow button his thumb pressed and the picture changes to a lithe outsider, the small silver and black outsider he’s been observing. He hums as he looks at the picture of it. How could this data-pad capture the likeness of something? Is it a weapon of some sort? Prowl turns it over in his servos, the blank metal back shows nothing, he looks around the edges, they too hold nothing dangerous. Perhaps it is the stylus that is the weapon? Prowl glances around to see the stylus broken and picks it up. No use now whatever kind of weapon it is. He slides the data-pad in the crevice of his armor, hiding it from view as he ventures through the forest to see if there are any other outsiders to observe. 

He climbs the ridge to overlook the outsider’s village, how those creatures can stand such blandly designed buildings is beyond him. He watches the outsider’s mill around their dull buildings, a small black and white outsider catches his attention and its Sire walks with it. Too far away to hear what they are saying, he resorts to watching their body language, not that there is much to go off of since they have no wings to express themselves, even the guards mimic sensory panels with their shoulders and plating. The smaller one seems to drag its pedes, a sign he’s learned as not wanting to be doing what it is, the Sire continues to walk ahead, not paying any attention to its creation, in Praxian culture that would be rude but apparently to this culture it’s normal. The Sire stops in front of a market stand filled with weapons, Prowl’s spark pulses painfully as the smaller one looks at the weapons. From stories of other Praxians and guards is that the shinier the weapon, the more dangerous it is. The Sire picks up a silver gun to hand to its creation. The smaller one shakes its helm and points to the crossbow above its reach, it is also silver. The other crossbow was just basic metal, easily crushed under a pede, the silver weapons are harder to destroy. 

The Sire purchases the bow and hands it to the smaller outsider, he watches as the smaller one looks over the crossbow, visor bright as it slides its servo over it. Prowl frowns, was before just to catch him off guard? Did the outsider know his weaknesses now? Would it come looking for him? Prowl retreats back into the cover of the forest, observations done for the orn. He needs recharge, unlike other sensory paneled Praxians he didn’t require as much recharge. Perhaps that was due to the fact his Carrier’s Sire was a guardsmech. 

Prowl walks into the tunnel as the star rises over head, darkness consumes him and his sensory panels fold out from behind his back, the extra sensors compensate for the loss of sight. Soon he reaches the single light in the tunnel of the guard post. Ratchet glances up at him as he nears. 

“That was a fast adventure,” Ratchet frowns and looks over the Praxian’s frame for any injuries. Finding none the blue optics of the mech meet gold. “You’re not injured are you?”

“No, I just . . . my observation outsider left the clearing so I had to come back,” Prowl sighs and shrugs his shoulder as if it means nothing, but it does mean something. It means that he has to stay underground for the rest of recharge cycle, something he deems not fun. 

“Just don’t ever go to the ridge,” Ratchet nods as Prowl starts to leave. “Too many young Praxians went to the ridge and were killed.”

Prowl nods, not telling the guard he did just that. That would be the end to his adventures. 

“Prowl,” Ratchet says as Prowl starts down the tunnel, he turns to look at the guard. “There’s a gathering later this orn for Praxians to meet their sparkmates, you should go, you never know who might be there.”

“Thank you, Ratchet,” Prowl nods and smiles at the guard. He frowns as he turns to continue to his home. A mate would end his observations; he wouldn’t be able to sneak out. They would always know where you were. That’s the last thing he needs. But it wouldn’t hurt to participate in the event; it would only cover his tracks of his observations. Pretend to be normal and no one is the wiser. 

He slips into his berthroom, covers himself up after he unlocks his door and locks his window. He starts his recharge sequence, the last thoughts of outsiders, finding a mate and whether or not he’d lose his observation.


	3. Chapter 3

Prowl walks into the village square, mechs his age mill around talking, flirting and who knows what with others. He looks at the mech’s gathered, none popping out at him or his spark. There were some Praxians who would go to these gatherings for vorns before finding their sparkmate. Apparently he would be one of those mechs, no bother, he didn’t want a sparkmate right now, or ever for that matter. If he did find his sparkmate, the Praxian with the Carrier gene would spark immediately; there are no chances of a Praxian sparking from another mech not their sparkmate. And even a merge results in a bond of true sparkmates. He walks out of the gathering and down the street to the fountain like the one in the clearing. This underground Praxus mirrored the one they used to live in; he only knows that from history passed down from his creators and his brother Smokescreen. He is like Bluestreak in never seeing their home above ground or the city-state. His Praxus is just what his observations allow him to see now. 

“Hey, Prowler,” the black and orange Praxian walks up to him and sits on the edge of the fountain beside him. Prowl glances at the mech, a slight moan getting absorbed by his armor. This is the last mech he ever wants to see anytime, let alone at this gathering. 

“Please do not call me Prowler, that is not my designation,” Prowl frowns at the mech. Hallows, that’s what his designation is. Every Praxian knows Hallows. 

“You need to loosen up if you ever want to find a sparkmate,” Hallows smiles, sliding his orange servo over Prowl’s white one. Prowl takes his servo away and lays it on his leg. “Or you’ll be an old sparked Praxian without ever sharing sparks.”

“If that happens then at least I wouldn’t be wasting my time chasing after mech’s who never really loved me like some mechs do,” Prowl glares at Hallows, it’s a widely known fact that Hallows never cares about a mech for more than a decaorn. Hallows frowns and stands from sitting beside Prowl, orange servos in fists on his hips.

“I guess you wouldn’t be interested in me then,” Hallows shakes his helm, Prowl looks up impassively at the mech. Did Hallows really believe he would have a chance at him?

“I wouldn’t trust my spark to you if you were the last Praxian in existence,” Prowl glares at the mech, Praxian’s have a way of knowing their definitive sparkmate when their sparks merge by bonding immediately and if there was a chance, even the smallest that his sparkmate was Hallows, he’d be better off not knowing. 

“You think you’re so perfect all the time, the perfect citizen, the mech who can’t decide on which of the lesser Praxians to see if your sparkmates. I have news for you, you are going to slip up and when you do, I will be there to ground you into the ground.”

“I would like to see you try,” Prowl smirks, so far no mech other than the guards knew about his observations. They also never knew that he was the one who stole the crystal from the top of the fountain that still hasn’t been replaced. Only certain crystals stay lit throughout the cycle and he happens to have one in his berthroom. 

Prowl watches as the mechs leave the square, some with another, others without anyone. He trails his digits over the pooled water; small ripples follow after his digit. His reflection shows him what he looks like; no other time does he see his own frame. No Praxians have mirrors; most don’t care what they look like to themselves. It’s not like appearances chose sparkmates. He looks over his black and white frame reflected in the silvery water; to him he looks like an average Praxian, nothing different. 

“I guess you didn’t find a sparkmate, huh?” his Carrier says as he sits beside him. Prowl shakes his helm and looks up at him. A slight frown on his faceplates as he look up at his Carrier. “You know I didn’t meet your Sire my first visit. It took me three tries before finding him.” 

“What if I don’t ever find one?” Prowl frowns, keeping up the charade of caring while in his spark he could care less about finding someone to bond to and have sparklings of his own. They would take away his observations and he isn’t ready to give those up just yet. 

“You will,” his Carrier smiles and takes his servo in his. “You’ll find a mech and fall in love then have sparklings running around to give you trouble, just like you and your siblings did for us.”

“I was never a problem,” Prowl frowns as he looks at his Carrier. 

“Oh, yes you were, you kept sneaking out of the house but the guards never let you passed their posts. I am so glad you out grew that. To think if you continued that dangerous habit now, I would hate to even think about what could happen to you.”

“Yeah, there’s no sneaking out for me anymore, I think I learned my lesson from that guard,” Prowl says. The truth really was that the guard, Ironhide, actually took him out of the tunnels that first time and showed him the fountain in the clearing. Ironhide said if he was ever in trouble to go to the fountain and scream and he and Ratchet would be there in a pulse. 

“I’m glad to hear that,” his Carrier hugs him tightly before letting him go and walking away to his shift as an Enforcer. It’s already predetermined once he bonds to his sparkmate that he will become an Enforcer like his Carrier. Prowl stands and makes his way back to his home for the rest of his recharge. Once in his berthroom, he takes the data-pad out of his armor, the silver and black outsider is still captured on the screen and he presses the arrow for the picture to change. A small turbofox is curled up at the base of a crystal tree, Prowl tilts his helm, why would an outsider care to draw a turbofox instead of just killing it. He turns the next picture and sees a magnificent crystalline bird, from the stories passed down; the lilleth was hunted to the point of extinction for its crystal-like feathers. A few glyphs are written on the bottom of the picture, he can’t read them but they look as though they’re drawn. This outsider must have the neatest glyph writing in his village. He sets the data-pad on his desk and grabs one of the data-books from his shelf, he onlines it and flips through the thin holographic pages until he comes to one that has the similar glyphs. Data-books, unlike the data-pad of the outsider, have pages that can be flipped through, not physical pages but holographic pages that brighten when laid flat on the book. A translation is supplied by his ancestors. He matches the glyphs to the one in his data-book. 

“Lilleths are found in the crystal forest near the crystal mountains,” Prowl reads the translation. One glyph stands out on the picture, one that is not translated and he realizes that it’s been on all the pictures. He even changes the picture to the next and finds the glyph. What does that glyph mean? Was it some kind of claim? Some kind of enchantment that kept the creatures inside the screen? They had enchantments; each Praxian has a glyph on their spark chambers which is given to them at sparked date. Each creator picks from a list of them for their creation. The glyph influences their sparks in a certain way, but no one can predict the outcome. The glyphs are broad in meaning for a reason to not control the Praxian. His glyph is love. The reason for his creators to give him that is for finding a sparkmate that is absolutely perfect for him. Every Praxian as at least two sparkmates who they would be compatible with but they can only bond to one in their lifetime. So much for his creators hope.

“Prowl, do you want to come with me on the hunt?” his Sire calls from the stairwell. Prowl puts the data-pad back into the armor pocket before heading out. His Sire was one of the few, like him, who could fold their wings down to look sensory panelless and pass as a hunter. His adventurous spirit comes from his Sire, who at his age would go out into the woods and explore, but that was when they were not as few and not as hunted. His Sire asked that he not sneak out but knew the thrill and need to get out and wished him to keep it from his Carrier. Prowl hops down the stairs, sensory panels tucked against his back. 

“Do you have to ask?” Prowl smiles as he follows his Sire to the group of hunters gathered. Only when the guards were sure that the threat level outside was small did the sensory paneled mechs come on the hunt. They hunted animals for food but if there was an outsider around they would kill it. Prowl hopes that the silver and black outsider is not around, it would be a pity for his observation to be killed. 

“Stick to the group and don’t wander off,” Ironhide says, their leader in the hunt this shift. He looks at Prowl mainly as he says this. Prowl tips his helm slightly, the guard knows him too well. The group starts to head out, their claws glinting in the crystal lights, the only weapon they need. With their training, speed and endurance, other animals tire easily in their chase, their main problem is the outsiders. Prowl’s spark sings in anticipation as they reach the outside. His observation shouldn’t be out this late but he never really got the chance to observe this late. The group meanders through the forest, Prowl slowly slinks back to the back and altogether disappears into the forest, not even alerting the group to his disappearance. His Sire does not even notice he’s gone or knows and is allowing him to explore. He reaches the clearing with the fountain silently. In the light of one of the moons sits the silver and black outsider. Prowl slips into the fountain, so close to the outsider. The cries of an outsider cause his observation to jump and tremble. The sounds of someone or something grow nearer. Fearful that one of the Praxian hunters is coming, Prowl grabs his observation and pulls it into the pool of the fountain. His armor changes to match his surroundings as he holds the outsider close, forgetting that this outsider has the new crossbow. He glances around the fountain, able to see past the veil as Praxian hunters enter the clearing. The outsider gasps as it sees the Praxians with Energon dripping from their claws. 

Prowl feels the outsider tense in his arms and spares a glance down, the silver of the crossbow catches the light and Prowl backs into the center of the fountain, gold optics bright. The outsider looks to its servo at the crossbow before setting it down in the fountain. 

“You aren’t killing me,” the outsider whispers, barely able for the other to hear over the sound of the fountain. Prowl stares at the outsider as it approaches him. All he had to do was jump out of the fountain and alert the others but then his observation would be brutally killed and he didn’t want that. Prowl flexes one of his claws, so that the light from the moon glints over it, the outsider stops a couple pedes away, gaze on the claws. “You could tell the others I’m here but you’re not. Why?”

Prowl continues to stare at the outsider, something about being so close with the other knowing he’s there causes his spark to pulse in his chamber differently. He reaches out his claws to the outsider, the other flinches back but stands still as claws trail over his faceplates. The way the moon shines overhelm causes Prowl to step closer to the other, cupping his helm and leaning closer. The outsider pulls back slightly as Prowl closes in. Lips meet and the outsider stills at the touch. The Praxian hunters call for the end of their hunt and Prowl backs away, leaving the outsider standing in the fountain. He slips out of the fountain to follow the retreating hunters. He glances over his shoulder to see the outsider peeking out of the veil of water at him. Perhaps there is something more to outsider’s than believed. 

Once in the safe confines of his berthroom, he takes the data-pad out of his pocket and continues to look through it. Many of the pictures are of nature, others are of buildings, and few are of outsiders. He turns to one; he drops the data-pad at the sight. On the screen is a sensory paneled Praxian stripped of their sensory panels and armor, Energon glows on the screen under the fallen Praxian. Who would capture such a vile, disgusting thing? He pokes the arrow to get rid of the sight; the next picture is of a small outsider within the arms of a thin outsider. The details are not the same as the others; the picture doesn’t seem alive like the others. The glyphs on the bottom are none like the translated ones in his data-book and the glyph on all the pictures is written twice. He picks up the data-pad, holding it gently as if it were the sparkling pictured. 

He needs to know what that glyph is. The only way to find out is to confront the outsider.


	4. Chapter 4

Prowl stands in the middle of the fountain at star rise, waiting for the outsider to come, armor different shades of blue and gold optics shining. Sounds of someone coming causes him to look up and the outsider walks into the clearing. The outsider walks up to the fountain, body language showing that it doesn’t know he’s there. The outsider sits on the fountain wall before turning to look right at him. The outsider jumps, a small scream escapes it as it falls to the ground, servo clutching its chest. Prowl climbs out of the fountain, stalking toward the downed outsider. He takes the data-pad out of his pocket and points to the glyph as he approaches the outsider. The outsider glances from him to the data-pad, visor brightening at the data-pad.

“You found my data-pad,” the outsider smiles and reaches for it. Prowl growls, barring sharp fangs as he jabs his digit at the glyph again and keeps the data-pad away from the outsider. “What do you want?” 

Prowl sighs and sits on the edge of the fountain, he refrains from having to speak to the outsider, it cautiously moves to his side to sit beside him. He traces the glyph and tilts his helm. The outsider points to the glyph. 

“I don’t know what you want,” the outsider frowns up at him. 

“Glyph, what is it?” Prowl says, short, sharp and to the point. The outsider jumps when he speaks and looks up at him with a small smile on its faceplates. 

“You can talk,” the outsider continues to smile. Prowl looks down at it, growls being absorbed by his armor. 

“Glyph,” Prowl points to the glyph again. The outsider reaches for the data-pad but he keeps it away. Just out of reach. 

“I’ll tell you when you give me my data-pad back,” the outsider frowns and grabs for the data-pad. Prowl growls and snaps at the other’s wrist. “Hey!”

“Mine, glyph,” Prowl states keeping the data-pad firmly in his grasp. The outsider sighs and crosses its arms, it turns his helm away from him. 

“Then I won’t tell. It was mine first.”

Prowl growls and hands the data-pad over, so much for keeping the weapon contraption from the outsider. Who knows what it’ll capture now. He needs to keep his guard up now in case it tries to capture him. 

“Thank you,” the outsider holds the data-pad close to its chest plates. Prowl growls lightly still wanting his answer. “The glyph is my designation. It means Jazz.”

So the outsiders use their designation to capture creatures in the small container. They’re glyphs must hold magical powers. Perhaps he should learn the outsider’s glyphs to harness that power and keep the outsiders from decimating them.

“Why?” Prowl asks, curiosity getting the better of him, he should be leaving now that he received his answer and to keep the other from capturing him. 

“Why what?” the outsider tilts its helm in confusion. Prowl growls barely, more to himself than to the other. 

“Why capture creatures with your designation glyph?” Prowl points to the sparkling in the arms of what should be the Carrier.

“That’s my Carrier holding me,” Jazz smiles, a frown creeps onto its face. “She was killed when I was young, my Sire never talks about her. I only have this picture of her.”

“Why did you capture her in your containment device?” Prowl pokes the side of the data-pad. “You captured your Sire as well.”

“I didn’t capture anyone,” the outsider laughs as it realizes what the Praxian means. “This is a drawing of things I find interesting. It’s just copying what I see. There’s no harm in drawing stuff. I could even draw you.”

“I don’t want to be captured,” Prowl stands, claws flexing in case this outsider decides to capture him in the device. He looks over the mech’s frame for the weakest spot and settles on the neck. He calculates the time it would take to attack. 

“How could I capture myself?” the outsider points to the sparkling that looks similar to it. Prowl relaxes as he thinks over that. It couldn’t capture itself. 

“This drawing, it’s a hobby?” Prowl motions to the data-pad. “Like crystal growing?”

“If you mean what you do in your free time, yeah, it’s a hobby,” the outsider smiles. “I could teach you if you wanted.”

“No,” Prowl says sharply. If anyone learned of this, he could be banished from the clan or worse banned from the outside world. “I cannot learn anything from outsiders.” 

The outsider flinches at the sharpness of the word, Prowl growls to himself as he paces the ground a few pedes away from the fountain and the outsider. Perhaps getting involved with his observation was not the brightest idea. 

“Praxians hate outsiders,” Prowl glares at the other, gold optics burning bright. “I should not even be speaking with you. Your kind hunts us for armor. You killed my siblings. You made us run from our home. You took our home and made it disgusting. You destroy everything you lay your optics on.”

“Not everyone’s like that,” the outsider jumps off the fountain wall. “I haven’t killed or hurt you. You can’t blame me for everything my ‘kind’ has done. I don’t blame you for stuff your ‘kind’ has done.”

“What have we done?” Prowl growls, pinning the other to the fountain, claws digging into the outsider’s wrists. 

“Your kind killed someone yesterorn, when you and I hid in the fountain,” the outsider looks up at the Praxian, trying not to wince as Energon starts leaking from its wrists. 

“That was self-defense,” Prowl pushes off the other and walks away a few pedes. “Your kind was hunting us. We acted to preserve our lives. We were not hunting outsiders.”

“Outsiders, what does that mean?” the outsider asks rubbing its wrists. The hurt obvious in its voice. 

“It means non-Praxian,” Prowl sighs and glances back at the outsider. He takes the other’s servo in his and pulls the outsider’s wrist up. His glossa runs over the small wounds before they close to show little evidence of it. The outsider holds up its other wrist for Prowl to do the same. 

“How do you do that?” the outsider asks once Prowl is done. “Stories tell of vampire-like creatures, but they’re just stories.”

“Praxians, are made of crystals, the reason outsiders hunt us. Crystals have healing properties so it would make sense that we can heal.”

“Yeah,” the outsider rubs the back of its helm. Prowl sits beside it again, optics glancing at the crossbow lying on the fountain wall. The outsider glances in the direction of Prowl’s gaze and looks up at him. “My Sire wants me to keep it with me at all times for protection.”

“Protection from what?” Prowl’s optics brighten. “There are no predators in this part of the forest. Only at dark cycle do Praxian hunting parties come out and if there are no outsiders around we do not attack them. The predators are along the mountain ridge, they never come down this far unless chasing prey when they’re starving.”

“I think he meant to kill a Praxian when I see one, kind of protection,” the outsider looks down at the ground, servos clutched on its lap. “I can’t tell him enough that I don’t like killing creatures. I’d rather draw them and then keep them that way, not as trophies. A data-pad full of my kind of trophies takes up less space than hunted trophies.”

“You’re trophies also do no damage,” Prowl glances at the data-pad. “Has your Sire seen them?” 

“Some, the ones I’ve shown him, the data-pad has a lock on it, the only reason you were able to see them was because I didn’t lock it.”

“You’re stylus is broken, though,” Prowl takes the broken stylus out of his armor pocket to hand to the outsider. 

“I can get another one, any way I have tons of them in my room,” the outsider smiles, the sound of its Sire calling it makes it frown. Prowl jumps from the ground to perch up on the wall. “I think you should leave.”

Prowl nods and disappears through the water veil. He turns to hide behind a tree to watch the outsider’s Sire walk into the clearing. He watches as the two leave, silently he follows through the trees. Curiosity peaks to know where the outsider named Jazz lives.


	5. Chapter 5

Prowl slips through the tunnels as the star sets behind him. The outsider named Jazz lived well into their village, too much so to keep following them. Perhaps next orn he could trail them from the ridge. 

“You’re getting late,” Ironhide says as Prowl reaches the post. “Normally you come back within the same cycle you left.”

“I got busy doing something else,” Prowl frowns and looks down.

“You aren’t . . . interfacing with an outsider, are you,” Ironhide asks, a look of disgust on his faceplates as Prowl’s gold optics brighten. 

“No!” Prowl gags, sensory panels pop out of their place against his back. His vents wheeze as he tries to recover from the digust. “I would never do such a disgusting thing. Why would you even bring it up?”

“Never know about the sparklings these orns,” Ironhide chuckles at Prowl’s reaction. “You better get, another hunting party will be out. Ratchet’s going to lead it this time. Up into the mountains, I think.”

“That should be interesting,” Prowl smiles, saying good bye to the guard before heading to his house and sneaking back into his berthroom as his Sire comes up the stairs. He locks his window before jumping to the door to unlock it and open it at the same time so that the lock won’t make a sound. He jumps as his Sire reaches for the door. “Oh, Sire, I didn’t hear you coming up. I just onlined.”

“So I guess it’s too early to go out on the hunting party?” his Sire tries to hide his smirk but it gets the best of him.

“It’s never too early to go outside,” Prowl smiles and follows his Sire down the stairs. He grabs a travel cube of Energon and drinks it on the way to the meeting in village square. Ratchet frowns as he meets Prowl’s gaze, Prowl just returns the medic gaze. As the group gathers, Ratchet makes a list of all the hunters coming along on the trip, in case some didn’t come back, they would know who was missing. 

“You were late,” Ratchet frowns as he passes by Prowl. Prowl growls softly, crystal frame absorbing the sound like all his self-growls. With the list handed to the guard positioned at the tunnels leading out to the mountains, Prowl takes the time to look around this unfamiliar side of their territory. This tunnel isn’t in his district so he never really goes out this way and if he tried he would be flagged for not only going to another district to exit but to exit without a hunter party. Of course he could walk through the forest above their tunnel system and village but who knows what dangers lurk in the forest above their safe haven. 

Prowl slips through the forest to explore on his own. He stays close to the hunter party; it wouldn’t do good to run into a predator up here and have to explain that he left the group. At least staying close would allow them to hear him and come to his aid. He climbs over ridges and looks out over a vast valley leading down to the city of Praxus. The outsiders are little points of reflected light moving all around, too small to take any notice in one in particular. 

Noise in the distance catches his attention and he makes sure his sensory panels are pulled in to his back before going to investigate. The sounds of the hunter party die down as he follows the new noise. 

“Sire, I don’t want to hunt,” the outsider from the fountain clearing says, the outsider named Jazz. Prowl slides behind a tree to watch the two. The smaller outsider flings around its crossbow in exaggeration of not wanting to hunt.

“You will learn to hunt and you will enjoy it,” its Sire pushes it to the ground in a hunting pose as a predator comes into view. The large beast growls at the two outsiders, Prowl hears it as a warning. The outsider named Jazz screams and the beast barrels down to them. The outsider’s Sire shoots off its Energon gun at the beast, hitting it several places but not stopping it. The beast lands between the outsider named Jazz and the other. The beast lunges at the outsider named Jazz. The larger outsider continues to fire at the beast, the hits doing nothing but anger it as it stalks toward the retreating outsider named Jazz. 

Prowl pounces as outsider named Jazz tumbles down the slope, tackling the beast and pulling it along with him down the deep slope of the ridge. The outsider named Jazz screams as it notices him. Prowl slams into a crystal tree, pinned by the beast who is dazed from being hit, Energon drips everywhere from the beast. Prowl sinks his claws into the beasts side, fangs burrowing into the metal skin, Prowl taste the somewhat acidic Energon. The beast howls out in pain as Prowl tears into its frame. The outsider named Jazz slides to a stop a few trees away, crossbow in servo aiming at them. Prowl growls in warning at the outsider before going back to drink the Energon. The beast howls out in its loudest bellow of pain yet and falls to the ground limp. Prowl falls from being pinned onto the larger beast, Energon dripping down his chin and chest. He looks down to see a crystal bladed arrow. So their own armor is getting turned against them. Crystal can pierce crystal down to their spark, where as he thought their weapons were really sharp metal and had to keep hitting them to kill them. One hit with that arrow and any Praxian would deactivate on the spot. 

Prowl glances up at the outsider named Jazz who has the crossbow pointing at him, the outsider’s servo trembling as he holds it. He growls, baring fangs as the sound of the outsider’s Sire coming causes the smaller one to glance up. Prowl takes this time to run away, leaving the beast for the outsiders and tries to find his hunting party. He stumbles down the hill, sliding into a tree and crying out in pain. He looks down at his frame to see a crystal claw from the beast sunk deep within his abdominal plating. He pulls the crystal claw out; one thing he hates about the Arcitheryum is that they have sharp crystal claws. Prowl holds his abdominal plating to keep the Energon from leaking out as he pulls himself up by the crystal tree. He stumbles to the river only to fall at the edge instead of farther in to wash out the Energon for his armor to heal. Darkness consumes him as he loses Energon faster than he thought.


	6. Chapter 6

Prowl onlines to someone holding his helm and something running over his abdominal plating. Onlining his optics, the sky is dark and the moons cast a silver glow around the forest. He turns his helm toward the mech, silver armor shimmers in the light. The mech slowly brings a rag from the water to his plating, washing the Energon from his wound. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you,” the mech says as Prowl feels weak and falls back into oblivion. 

When he onlines next, the sky is bright and the various cyberbirds are chirping along with the tree’s songs. He glances around, the silver mech is gone without a trace other than his healed wound. He sits up beside the stream; smaller animals glance up at him as they lap up the water filled with various minerals that mimic the effects of Energon. They go on about their business when they deem him no threat. 

He stands, stretching to test his healed armor. Nothing hurts so he makes his way to the tunnels. He reaches the border of the Praxian territory before changing his path to go to the fountain clearing. He slips through the clearing without a sound and sits in the center of the fountain, hiding within the veil of water as outsider named Jazz walks in with a data-pad and stylus in one servo and the crossbow in the other. He hisses quietly at the sight of the weapon that could deactivate him, the sound goes unnoticed by the outsider. He compares the silver mech from before with outsider named Jazz and comes to the conclusion that they are in fact not the same mech. The other was taller and older than outsider named Jazz. 

Outsider named Jazz glances around, even looking right at him without even acknowledging him. He steps forward and out of the water veil causing outsider named Jazz to jump, but not scream this time. 

“How do you do that?” outsider named Jazz asks motioning to the fountain. Prowl tilts his helm at the question. 

“I just do,” Prowl says as he steps over the fountain wall to sit on the edge. “Just like you scream when you perceive a threat.”

“That cyberbear was huge!” outsider named Jazz opens its arms wide. “It could chomp me right into pieces.”

“It was only coming after you because you were screaming,” Prowl shakes his helm a small smiles on his face. “You’re small enough that if you stay still and quiet it wouldn’t even know you exist.”

“Oh, thanks, that means a lot,” outsider named Jazz huffs with its arms crossed. “You had a lot of Energon on you, are you okay? I don’t see any injuries.”

“I am well,” Prowl nods. “The Energon was mostly from the Arcitheryum, the cyberbear.”

“Yeah, you went all vampire on it, chowing down on it, after it’s Energon,” outsider named Jazz giggles. “Do you always have fangs or do they retract?”’

“I do not understand what you mean,” Prowl tilts his helm, outsider named Jazz grabs his helm and pushes open his mouth. He hisses in warning as outsider named Jazz opens his mouth. He pulls away growling in warning. “Do not do that again.”

“Ya have them out all the time,” outsider named Jazz smiles and starts scribbling on the data-pad. Prowl peers over the outsider’s arm to see the drawing of fangs. 

“What are you doing?” Prowl asks, glancing up at the outsider. 

“Drawing your fangs,” outsider named Jazz chirps as he puts the finishing touches on the picture. 

“Why?” Prowl tilts his helm slightly. Why would anyone want to draw something everyone has? He grabs outsider named Jazz’s helm and opens the others mouth, the outsider squeaks at the sudden action but makes no other move as Prowl inspects the outsider’s mouth. The outsider’s don’t have any fangs. Strange. “You have no fangs. How do you tear into a creature’s frame to get the Energon and materials to consume?”

“Uhh, we cut them open,” outsider named Jazz says. Cut them open? How would they do that without fangs? “You know, I still don’t know your designation.”

“I never gave it,” Prowl states and scans the surroundings, sensory panels twitch slightly, the sound being absorbed by the crystals in his armor. 

“Well, could you give it now?” outsider named Jazz pouts up at the Praxian. Prowl looks down at the outsider. 

“No,” Prowl shakes his helm. “My hunter party is returning. I must leave.”

Prowl starts to stand but the outsider grabs his arm. He growls and glares at the outsider. The other pulls its servo away as if it were burned. 

“Why do you keep coming here?” the outsider asks as Prowl moves toward the forest. 

“You are my observation,” Prowl disappears into the trees, running to get to the group before they enter the tunnels. Ratchet nods as their gaze meets and they descend into the tunnels. Sensory panels fold out to capture the data from the tunnels. 

“You were gone for the whole hunt,” his Sire whispers to him. Prowl nods and rubs his abdomen from a ghost pain. “Were you injured?”

“An Arcitheryum came after me,” Prowl winces, not the best predator to bring up. His Sire gasps and pulls Prowl aside and checks his frame over for any damage. “I healed. I’m fine Sire. I’m not a sparkling anymore. I can take care of myself.”

“I know, but I still worry. It’s just Smokescreen, you and Bluestreak left. I couldn’t live with something bad happening to you. I know you sneak out still. I just don’t want you to get lured into an outsider’s trap. You know Sliverwing, well he was lured into a trap the other orn. He said he met a femme from one of the nearby outsider villages, she said they resolved themselves and gave up hunting Praxians. We found the remains of his frame on the hunt. She tricked him into loving her. A relationship like that will never exist with an outsider. Our only relationship with the outsiders is hunting.”

“I know that Sire,” Prowl says, making his frame convey truth, something he learned to perfect with the guards of his district. Even though his spark tries to protest. “You don’t have to worry about me falling for some outsider, the very thought makes my plating crawl.”

“I just worry, I guess that’s what Sire’s do,” his Sire smiles and Prowl nods before returning home as his Sire leaves for his shift at the council hearing. Prowl runs up the stairs to his room, locks the door behind him and growls as he paces the floor. Was he falling for that outsider? If not, what was that kiss about in the fountain? If so, should he tell one of the guards so that they could deactivate the outsider one orn? Would he actually want outsider named Jazz deactivated? Why would he save the outsider from the Arcitheryum if he’d just turn around and deactivate him?

“Outsider named Jazz,” Prowl growls and falls on his berth.


	7. Chapter 7

Prowl onlines as alarms flash outside, no sound only lights as the alarm is alerting them of approaching outsiders into their territory. Every so often there are times when the outsiders venture farther in the forest, this orn is one of them. Every tunnel exit is locked down; going in and out for any reason is banned. Prowl frowns as he sits up on his berth, stuck within the village is nothing he likes to hear. All guards are station to their posts as the first line of defense, so visiting Ironhide on his off shift is out. 

He looks out his window, the crystal lights are all off and every building is completely dark. The buildings crystals are changed to ebony crystals. The silence of the crystals that normally sing a low tune is deafening. During these alarms as the outsiders get closer the alarms quit flashing and everything is completely black and silent. The flashing alarms stop, the darkness starts at his window and goes on forever. 

The darkness keeps the outsiders from exploring farther into the tunnels. Prowl flips his visor down, something that is made of ebony crystal for just this instance so he can walk around with his optics on to see when the alarms come back on to signal that the outsiders are further away. Prowl walks through the dark house, to the door and opens it silently. He steps out onto the street, sensory panels gathering data about his surroundings. So far he is the only one around on the streets. Possibly the only Praxian venturing out on his own accord, the city keeps functioning as the threat passes around him. The council long ago decided that the outsiders will not cause them to live in fear and stop everything as the outsiders venture around. 

Prowl walks to the entrance of his district’s tunnel, waiting for the first possible chance to leave. Gathering that no one is around, he starts to walk into the tunnel. Stopping every so often to gather if there is anyone around, he passes the guard station; Ironhide and Ratchet talk quietly, only being heard by his sensor panels. 

The light of the outside meets the darkness of the tunnel as he nears the surface. Sensory panels immediately falling to his back to hide. His armor changes automatically to blend into his surroundings, turning a misty clear as he reaches the crystal trees, even the visor changes color to match. He slips through the forest, sometimes right beside an outsider. So much for warning him to go outside, with his ability the only thing impossible for him to do is to walk into an outsider’s village. 

Prowl smiles slightly as he makes it to the fountain clearing and into the fountain, something about the fountain makes outsiders not able to see him and for that he is thankful. Outsiders normally never come to the fountain because it’s just a fountain holding no logical purpose other than beauty. It is not made of crystal so there is nothing to salvage, it’s just in the middle of the forest. Stories tell of the fountain being a lover’s hideout, to Prowl it’s just a survival’s hideout. It is his safe place outside.

He stills as an outsider approaches the fountain, the silver and black outsider named Jazz stands there staring at the fountain. He watches as outsider named Jazz circles the fountain; the other outsiders pay it no mind as they walk in the forest around the clearing. Outsider named Jazz reaches a servo under the water, Prowl trails his claws over the servo gently, smiling slightly. The outsider pulls its servo back and frowns at the fountain. 

“Are you in there?” outsider named Jazz asks. Prowl smiles as the outsider climbs up onto the wall of the fountain. He grabs the outsider’s collar and pulls it in. “How do you hide so well in here?”

“It’s a talent I have,” Prowl says as outsider named Jazz places its servos on his chest plates. 

“I’m sorry they’re out there,” outsider named Jazz tips its helm to the outside world. “I hope you weren’t seen.”

“Our home is under lockdown,” Prowl frowns as he feels the other’s spark beating against his. He trails his claws over the other’s helm, the outsider hums and presses into his touch. 

“This might sound crazy, but I feel safe around you,” outsider named Jazz slides its servos around Prowl’s waist. 

“That does sound crazy, we are supposed to be enemies,” Prowl cups the outsider’s helm, leaning in slightly, the outsider leans up to press a kiss to the Praxian’s lips. He pulls the outsider closer, fangs running over the other’s lip. The outsider flinches, pulling away slightly but Prowl pulls him closer before moving his helm beside the outsiders to watch through the veil as outsider hunters step into the clearing. He growls softly with his claws pressing against outsider named Jazz’s back. The outsider holds on tighter, not knowing what the reason for Prowl’s growling. 

The outsiders start walking into the fountain square, all of them coming to the fountain. Prowl backs away, letting go of outsider named Jazz and backs into the center of the fountain. The outsider named Jazz glances around to see the hunting party gathered around. Prowl crouches down, armor changing to match dark blue of the water pooled up. Even the visor darkens to sapphire blue as he watches the outsiders come closer to the fountain and sit on the fountain wall. 

Being within this close of proximity with a hunter party of outsiders causes Prowl to realize what a mistake he made to trust outsider named Jazz. He glares at the outsider who crouches in front of him. 

“You did this,” Prowl growls quietly, low enough to be drowned out by the water falling to the others but not to outsider named Jazz. “You brought them here. You tricked me into believing you would not hurt me.”

“I didn’t,” outsider named Jazz shakes its helm. Servos grabbing onto his frame. “I didn’t want them to come to my fountain. As long as they’re here I can’t draw any animals or anything. I don’t want them to be here.”

“Am I supposed to believe that?” Prowl asks grabbing the outsider by the neck. “I should kill you like I was supposed to when I first saw you orns ago.”

“You’ve been watching me?” the outsider asks completely oblivious to the fact that one swift clench could end its life. 

“Why are you not alerting your kind?” Prowl glares at the outsider. The outsiders outside start talking and laughing at some joke or story another one said. 

“Because I don’t want you deactivated. You’re my only friend.”

“We are not friends,” Prowl growls, slightly too loud for the water to drown out and the closest outsider glances around. “You are a hunter and I am an animal.”

Prowl lunges with fangs barred at Jazz’s neck, a shot is fired from the outsider who heard him. Prowl winces as the shot hits him in the shoulder. He falls into the pool of water, bright blue Energon starts mixing with the dark blue water. 

“Oh, no,” outsider named Jazz says as it mixes the water and the Energon together so the others won’t know they hit something. Prowl snaps at the outsider as it kneels beside him. The outsider’s servos press against the wound and he hisses at the pain. “I’m so sorry.”

“Leave,” Prowl growls snapping at the outsider’s neck. His fangs sink into the others neck and outsider named Jazz screams. The outsiders jump and point their weapons at the fountain. Prowl pushes outsider named Jazz out and the outsiders jump to their kind’s side. Half of them help carry it out of the clearing while the other half cautiously poke at the water. Outsider screams come from the forest and the outsiders run to the other’s aid. Only one stays behind to watch the fountain. Prowl lunges at the outsider, fangs sinking into the outsider’s neck, claws scrapping at the outsider’s sides. Energon covers him and the ground as he lets the outsiders frame fall to the ground limp. 

Prowl tumbles into the fountain, trying to clean his wounds for his armor to heal. He leans back on the center of the fountain as his armor starts healing. Outsider named Jazz will not come back, he scared him off, might as well forget about observations and find his sparkmate to get on with his life in underground Praxus. Prowl falls into recharge as his frame heals, hoping in his armor to keep him hidden.


	8. Chapter 8

Prowl onlines to the calm sound of water falling around him. He onlines his optics to see the fountain water surrounding him. The clearing is empty besides the fallen outsider’s frame. He slowly creeps out to finish consuming the materials that would help his own frame regenerate. Kneeling beside the fallen outsider he begins tearing into the frame, unknowing of someone walking into the clearing. He digs his claws into the other’s frame, ripping it open as fresh Energon pools up in the cavities. He drinks it up, looking around him and finally seeing the other outsider staring at him. He growls softly, just enough for the other to hear, he notices a bandage wrapped around the outsider’s neck. The outsiders couldn’t heal themselves? What good were they?

“You won’t hurt me again, will you?” outsider named Jazz asks as it slowly approaches, a pede at a time. Prowl growls louder when the outsider get close enough, he bares his Energon coated fangs causing the other to fall to the ground. Prowl resumes ripping the outsider’s systems out, he piles the in-consumable parts on the ground, every so often looking up at outsider named Jazz to see the outsider holding its servo over its mouth. He laughs at the other before smashing the outsider’s helm open to dig around in the outsider’s processor. Outsider named Jazz gags before purging beside itself. 

“You didn’t have to watch,” Prowl states as he steps away from the outsider’s frame. “I suppose that is why we are labelled animals.”

Prowl walks closer to the other, Energon dried over his frame. Outsider named Jazz scoots back a little, Prowl pounces and pins the outsider to the ground. The outsider whimpers and turns his helm away. Prowl lets go of the outsider and walks over to the fountain to clean off. 

“You don’t look hurt anymore,” the outsider says as it walks up to him. Prowl cups his servo and wipes the Energon off his arm. 

“Why are you still here?” Prowl asks as he finishes cleaning off his frame, it glistens in the setting star light. 

“Because, you interest me,” the outsider says. Prowl glances up, helm tilting to the side as the outsider sits beside him. He reaches up to the bandage around the other’s neck; a pain stabs his spark as he remembers that he caused the outsider pain. The outsider flinches away slightly. He scoots closer and cuts the wrap with one of his claws; the outsider sits perfectly still unsure what the Praxian is doing. He unwraps the fabric slowly, blue Energon slowly seeps out of the long gashes and holes in the others neck. He glances up at the outsider’s face; a frown stays on the others faceplates as its visor is dim. He leans closer, glossa snaking out over the wound he cause to the other. The outsider tenses as he holds the other’s shoulders to keep him still. Noise from the forest causes him to glance up between licks but sees nothing so continues. The outsider slowly relaxes as no pain comes and slowly falls to its back on the fountain wall. Prowl follows, standing over the other as he continues to heal the wound. Spark pulsing hard as his frame presses against the outsider’s, heat builds between them as the other slides his servos up his side. 

“Prowl,” a growl comes from the tree line and Prowl glances up, growling with his claw on the outsider’s helm, showing that this outsider belongs to him. 

“Sire,” Prowl jumps as he recognizes the Praxian. The outsider tilts its helm back, wincing slightly as its wound opens against and Energon leaks out. “I can explain.”

“This is what you do on your trips outside,” the Praxian shakes his helm as he walks closer to the fountain. He looks at the outsider before growling down at it. Prowl growls as he leans over the silver and black outsider, protecting him from his Sire. 

“Sire, he is my friend,” Prowl smells the Energon, the scent drawing him towards it. 

“Kill him or I will,” his Sire growls, claws shining in the light. Prowl growls again servos sliding over the outsider’s frame. 

“Very well,” Prowl growls, attacking outsider Jazz’s neck. Fangs digging deep into the outsider’s neck. Outsider named Jazz screams and pushes at him. 

“I will be waiting,” Prowl feels his Sire leave, outsider Jazz whimpers and tries pushing harder away from him. 

“Stop,” outsider Jazz cries out. Prowl licks the outsider’s neck, healing it the rest of the way and what he just did. When he moves away, outsider Jazz reaches up to its neck and checks if there is any Energon. There is none and Prowl moves away.

“Don’t ever come back here,” Prowl glares at the outsider before running into the woods, he catches up to his Sire at the tunnels, helm bowed as he falls beside his Sire. “It is done.” 

“What would ever possess you to make friends with those creatures?” his Sire shakes his helm. “I don’t want you going out, if that means I need to seal your window shut so be it. I don’t want you to end up like Sliverwing.”

“Sire, it was nothing like that, I was observing that outsider. I let my existence slip but I had everything under control. It trusted me.”

“Well, now it’s deactivated.”

“Yes,” Prowl sighs, sensor panels folding out from being hidden. He climbs the stairs to his room; his Sire follows him in and seals the window with a crystal paste. Nothing could break that seal. Prowl climbs into berth, covering himself up as his Sire walks out. He sighs as he thinks about never seeing outsider Jazz again. Perhaps he is turning into someone like Sliverwing and would end up like him. But what about the feeling in his spark? It seemed to pulse harder and more when around the outsider. It couldn’t be that his sparkmate was an outsider, could it? Perhaps he needs to speak with someone about sparkmates.


	9. Chapter 9

Prowl sighs as he looks out his sealed window, his armor dulls to a dark gray and light gray. Praxians, the ones who can control the colors, often suffer from their moods being reflected by their armor. The door to his berthroom opens and his Carrier walks in to sit on the berth.

“Your Sire told me that he found you outside, did you sneak out?” his Carrier asks. Prowl nods without even glancing at him. “Do you know what they would do to you if they catch you?”

“They would kill me if I can’t kill them first,” Prowl says, voice without emotion, reflecting his mood. 

“Do you want to be killed?” his Carrier asks, worry in his voice as he reaches out to lay a servo on his creation’s arm. Prowl growls and huffs, pulling his servo away from his Carrier’s reach. 

“Of course not,” Prowl glares at his Carrier. “I do not see why we do not just attack their village and take Praxus back instead of living in the darkness. We could train everyone to hunt and kill.”

“How many would deactivate before we take their city?” his Carrier stands and puts his servos on his shoulders. 

“It would be better than living here,” Prowl growls and shrugs off his Carrier’s servos. He walks out of his room and out of the house, heading for the one place to escape if he couldn’t go outside. He knocks on the door to the guard’s house; Ratchet answers the door, optics bright as he sees Prowl. “I am banned from the outside for the foreseeable future. I need something to take my processor off of the outside world.”

“Well, then, come in,” Ratchet moves to the side to let Prowl step in. “What can I help you with?”

Ratchet leads Prowl through the small hallway, his sensory panels bending behind his back to keep from scraping the walls, and into the small sitting area which only consists of two chairs. A small flickering crystal illuminates the room, its light reaching to all the corners. 

“I’ve come to ask about sparkmates,” Prowl sighs, knowing full well that Ratchet would be overjoyed to hear about this since the old mech keeps trying to get him to find one. 

“What do you want to know?” Ratchet’s smile tells all and Prowl inwardly groans. 

“Is there any indication before a merge that a mech is your possible sparkmate?” Prowl asks, servos clasped on his lap as he waits for the long speech of the subject on sparkmates. 

“There is some, some mechs say that they feel something different in their sparks the longer they are around someone, others believe that is just something mechs tell themselves to make them happy. Personally for me, I knew Ironhide was my sparkmate from a feeling in my spark, it started with a change in pulse. It wasn’t noticeable to scanners, only a minor change though. I started seeing him differently; we were just friends to start with. As time went on we became closer until we decided to merge and then we bonded and found out that we were sparkmates. Who’s the mech that has your spark pulsing differently?” 

“I am just curious, don’t get your hopes up,” Prowl waves the mech off, processor thinking about the time of his first kiss with outsider Jazz. “Do you think it’s possible for an outsider and a Praxian to be sparkmates. Sire told me about Sliverwing. Is it even possible?”

“Sparks are not a science, they’re governed by laws we could never hope of understanding, if there is a way for outsiders and Praxians to be sparkmate, I would love to see it. From my point of view right now, I do not believe it is possible. Are you falling for an outsider? Please think it through.”

“No, I’m not, I just wondered,” Prowl says, thinking about outsider Jazz, the way he seems like he cares about him. Since when did the outsider become a him? “Do you know when the next hunter party is going out?”

“If you’re banned you will not be allowed to participate,” Ratchet frowns at Prowl. 

“Really,” Prowl’s shoulders drop and his frame turns grayer. “How does someone get a ban lifted?”

“I do not know, Prowl,” Ratchet shakes his helm. “Of all the mech’s I know who had bans on them are still unable to go outside.”

“You mean I’m stuck here?” Prowl whines, sensory panels drooping low on his back. 

“A ban only means if you are caught you will be taken to the council for a trial of exile or permanent detention. A ban is only to protect the other Praxians. They could care less about if you deactivated. Anyway your ban isn’t council initiated. It’s your Sire banning you. We have no authority to detain you if you decide to leave. If your creators catch you out, they could take it up to the council.”

“So I can still leave?” Prowl smiles, sensory panels fluttering slightly. “If I don’t get caught.”

“Yes,” Ratchet nods. “Please be careful. If you do get banned from the council, your chances of becoming an Enforcer are dropped because you cannot put the safety of the others before your own. Enforcers are the next line of defense if the outsiders storm the tunnels. You’ll be reassigned.”

“I won’t get caught,” Prowl smiles and jumps out of the chair, he hugs Ratchet before running out of the guard’s house. Instead of going back to his home, he slips out of the tunnel and back to the fountain, staying to the trees instead of hiding in the fountain. He waits for the time when outsider Jazz comes. The time passes by and a frown comes to his face. Did the mech actually listen to him this time?

Prowl steps out into the clearing as the star sets behind him, still no outsider Jazz. He frowns and goes to the ridge to watch the outsiders in their village. None look like outsider Jazz and he turns around to go home. His armor turns gray as he walks in through the front door, his Sire looks up and asks if Prowl’s alright. Prowl just continues up to his room and closes the door, locking it behind him.


	10. Chapter 10

Prowl onlines to knocking on his door and his Sire calling for him. “Go away!”

“Prowl open this door right now!” his Sire yells back. Prowl throws his pillow at the door which makes a resounding thud. He glares at the door before falling back on his berth with the thermal blanket over his helm. “Prowl unlock this door!”

“I don’t want to, you want me here so here I am,” Prowl replies and turns over to face the wall. He growls as his Sire continues to knock on the door. 

“Your brothers are here,” his Sire says. Prowl sits up on the berth looking at the door. 

“Smokey and Blue are here?” Prowl asks, looking around the room. Only once a vorn did Smokescreen and Bluestreak come to visit, they lived with their sparkmates in another clan. The trip between clans can be dangerous hence their once a vorn visits. Prowl jumps off the berth, unlocking the door and seeing his older and younger brother smiling at him. He wraps one arm around Smokescreen and the other around Bluestreak. “You two wouldn’t believe how boring it is here, you have to tell me everything you’re up to and what you’ve seen and done the past vorn.”

“You know you could always find your own sparkmate,” Smokescreen chuckles. Prowl flinches and Bluestreak frowns at his older brother’s reaction. 

“Prowler, are you alright?” Bluestreak puts his servo on Prowl’s chestplates, worry in the blue optics. 

“Yes, fine, I think I might have found a sparkmate though,” Prowl smiles as they start to head downstairs to the sitting room. 

“Well, does your spark sing around him?” Smokescreen asks, Prowl smiles as he nods. “Then what are you waiting for, merge with him and find out.”

“I can’t,” Prowl sighs and looks away, a frown coming to his face. 

“Why not, just go back to him and tell him.”

“I told him to stay away,” Prowl frowns, sensory panels shaking. Him sounds better than it and anyway calling someone an it meant the outsiders. 

“Then tell me his designation and I’ll straighten it all out,” Smokescreen smiles with his servos on Prowl’s shoulders. “You’d know I’d do anything for you. Well except walk into the outsider’s village.”

“Yeah,” Prowl smiles a little. “I’ll tell him if I see him again. But now for the stories.”

Prowl drags his brothers down the stairs and to the table as their Carrier sets out some Energon for them. 

“Well, my sparkmate is carrying sparklets,” Smokescreen smiles, Prowl gasps, gold optics bright as he looks at his brother. 

“Really, I have to wait a whole vorn before I can see them. They’ll be all updraged and all.”

“I think we could squeeze in another visit,” Smokescreen smiles as they talk about what they’ve been doing in their clan for the past vorn. Prowl listens with his sensory panels perked up on his back. Bluestreak interrupts to add something every so often, much to Smokescreen’s irritation. 

As their night comes Smokescreen takes the sitting room and Bluestreak gets a temporary berth laid in Prowl’s room. Prowl lies on his berth watching Bluestreak recharge as he thinks about what he told Smokescreen about finding his sparkmate. Is he seriously considering outsider Jazz as a sparkmate? If he is, then what would his family think? What would the council think? They would exile him if they ever learned about outsider Jazz. Prowl starts his recharge sequence but recharge doesn’t come, his stored energy cells are at maximum capacity now that he hasn’t gone outside for a couple orns. He glances at Bluestreak, the other’s sensory panels twitch in his recharge. He glances at the door then back at Bluestreak, then to the door before coming to the conclusion of his inner battle. Outside. Prowl silently climbs down the stairs, armor catching any color and mimicking it to better hide himself. He reaches the door, looks around to find that everyone is still in deep recharge before stepping out of the house. Sensory panels fold down as he makes his way to the tunnels, he slips past Ironhide. Armor taking on gray and misty clear as he slips through the forest, passing by the fountain to see no one there, he keeps on following the outsider’s path to the fountain. He slips behind a large crystal tree near the entrance of the outsider village. He thinks over the times he’s been around outsider Jazz, the smell of the mech’s Energon so sweet and bold. His sensors pick up on it at the entrance, he glances around, watching the outsiders, the feel of outsider Jazz’s plating in his servos comes and the crystals on his servos change to silver. The texture of the outsider’s chestplates pressed against him spreads over his frame, crystals turning silver and mimicking the outsider’s. The change in texture causes his sensory panels to lose their sensitivity and Prowl stumbles a bit before recalibrating the loss. 

He looks down at his claws, no hiding them. He clenches his servos into loose fists, possibly having that hide the appearance of claws. He takes a deep vent before stepping out into the view of the others. They pay him no mind as he makes his way through the village, his visor comes down with sapphire blue color to it because looking around as he walks by outsiders; none of them have gold optics. They either have blue or red. Prowl continues to vent steadily as the smell of outsider Jazz takes him to a large marble estate surrounded by a high black metal fence. A guard stands at the gate and Prowl continues on, hoping to not alert the guard in any way. There might possibly be a weak point of entry for him to slip in with his disguise. 

He circles around the estate, remaining calm and appearing to be an outsider. From his observation there is no weak entry. Something in the back of the estate catches his attention though. A silver and black mech playing catch with a turbofox. 

“Come on, Firesky,” the mech says and crouches down with his arms outstretched. “Bring it back.”

The flame red and white turbofox trots along with the ball in its mouth and drops it at the outsider’s pedes. Prowl watches as the outsider flings the ball in the air and the ball bounces and hits the fence, rolling under the posts. The turbofox comes to a stop, looking at Prowl with bright optics, the crystal fur jingles as it shakes from happiness. Prowl kneels down, servo sliding though the fence to let the turbofox lick it. The outsider calls for the turbofox before coming over. 

“Hiya mech, I see you met Firesky,” the outsider says, Prowl glances up to meet a sapphire blue visor of outsider Jazz, he flinches and backs away. “What’s wrong?”

“You live here?” Prowl asks, stories told to sparklings at recharge time to keep sparklings from venturing out are about a place where deactivated Praxians are kept and stripped of their armor. Some stories tell of the Praxians still alive while their armor is being removed. Everyone can see the place from the ridge. Everyone can see the estate from the ridge. 

“Yeah, do I know you?” outsider Jazz asks tilting his helm, Prowl shakes slightly at realizing that outsider Jazz lives with the mech who butchers Praxians. 

“Your Sire’s the one who takes the armor off of us?” Prowl starts to back away, trembling and the crystals on his armor start to lose their metal shade. 

“Prowl?” outsider Jazz asks, Prowl flinches at the outsider knowing his designation. 

“How do you know my designation?” Prowl glares under the visor. The memory hits him like a metal building and he stumbles to the ground from it. “My Sire said it. You can never use my designation.”

“Why not?’’ outsider Jazz asks, servos wrapping around the posts of the fence. “Your plating looks different. Did you . . . you walked through the village to find me? How did you get your armor to look like metal?” 

“Patience and I can mimic my surroundings,” Prowl says, trying to calm his spark from the conflicting repulsion and love for this mech. “Please tell me you do not ‘tend’ to the Praxians that enter your home, even if you lie to me. Tell me you don’t.”

“I don’t even see them, I wasn’t aware they came here,” outsider Jazz frowns. “Hey, if you go around the front I’ll make the guard let you in. I promise you I won’t let my Sire see you. We can hide in my room.”

“It would be best if I limit my exposure to ou-others,” Prowl says, quickly changing his wording. 

“Great!” outsider Jazz smiles and jumps to go to the front. Prowl looks over his frame, concentrating to keep the disguise up until they reach outsider Jazz’s room. He walks around the fence to the gate, the guard looks at him, looks over him before nodding and opening the gate for him. Prowl sighs as he follows outsider Jazz into the house. “Now if you do see something, you gotta tell me and I’ll get rid of it. Oh, and you better not go all crazy and scream and all. I don’t know what your home’s like or anything but there might be some drastic differences.”

As they step into the house, Prowl jumps at how open the room is, it makes him feel exposed and small. Even in the outside world there are trees to hide around. Here there is nothing, a marble staircase sits to the right of the door, gold railings along it and Prowl slides his servo into outsider Jazz’s for comfort and to make sure he’s not alone, claws scrape along the others servo. Outsider Jazz looks downs to see the other servo clenched.

“We need to get you some gloves or something,” outsider Jazz whispers as he leads Prowl up the grand staircase. Everything is white, gold and silver; some places there are blue like the shade of outsider Jazz’s visor. Prowl takes in his surroundings, masking his surprise and awe at the amount of gold and silver and the openness. 

“You live here,” Prowl can’t help but whisper as they reach the landing and he looks out over the main room, even the whisper seems to be louder than he wanted it. 

“Yup,” outsider Jazz chirps and tugs Prowl down the hall to another set of stairs which are less fancy than the others but still more than what his home underground is. This floor isn’t as open and Prowl is thankful for that. Open meant exposed and exposed meant deactivation. Prowl steps onto the metal stair case, outsider Jazz’s steps clink as he climbs, but still no sound comes from Prowl as he climbs the stairs. “You are really quiet, how are you so quiet?”

“My designation means silence and hidden one in Pr-my city-state,” Prowl glances around the room they step into. It spans, for what seems like, forever. The berth sits to the left of the door while some chairs and a couch sit to the right. He steps further into the high ceilinged room, he steps closer to outsider Jazz as he walks into the open room. Outsider Jazz leads him to one of the plushy chairs about four pedes away from a large berth. How could anyone create such a large berth? His attention focuses on the plushy chair and he pokes at the center of it before pressing his servo into the foam. It feels like what his berth is made of. None of their chairs are this nice. 

“It’s not going to eat you,” outsider Jazz giggles, Prowl slides to sit on it, humming as he relaxes, the material it’s made of is even soft along his plating, although the silver texture of his armor lessens his sensory input. 

“Where did you get this chair?” Prowl asks optics dimming behind the visor. He could get used to this chair if it weren’t for its location deep within the outsider village. 

“We bought it at the store down the block,” outsider Jazz frowns as he takes his seat on the chair a couple pedes from him. “Do you not have chairs in your home?”

“This feels like my berth, our furniture is made of stone and metal,” Prowl frowns as something catches his attention on the table across the room. He tilts his helm as he stands and walks over to it, he feels outsider Jazz follow him and he picks up the crystal figurine. 

“Uhm, Prowl,” outsider Jazz frowns up at Prowl. 

“Barricade, call me Barricade like this,” Prowl turns the figurine over, the crystals hum slightly in his servos, the texture too much like their armor and too less of what crystal tree bark or leaves are. “This is made from a Praxian.” 

“Oh,” outsider Jazz sighs. He takes the figurine carefully out of Prowl’s servos. “It’s a figurine of Primus. I made it from a block of crystal from my Sire’s storage. I didn’t know. I’m so sorry. I . . . I’ll put it away.”

Prowl watches as outsider Jazz sets the statue with care into a chest made of crystal, crystal from a crystal tree log. The way he cares for the statue made from a fellow Praxian overrules the fact that they should be enemies. He sees how outsider Jazz cares for something so precious even though its wrong. “His designation was Lightrain.”

“What?” outsider Jazz turns around to look at him. Servo still resting on the chest. 

“The Praxian who that crystal came from was called Lightrain, he was my Carrier’s friend five vorns ago. He went missing.”

“How do you know it’s . . . from him?”

“Each Praxian has a song their armor makes, it defines us more than our designation,” Prowl holds out his servo for outsider Jazz when he steps away toward the berth and chairs and away from the statues place. “It defines us even more than our spark and continues long after our spark fades. Our spark only adds to the sound but once the spark is no longer pulsing certain Praxians can still hear it.”

Outsider Jazz takes Prowl’s servo, Prowl pulls him closer and holds the outsider’s helm against his chest plates. He feels the other’s spark thrumming against the silver chest plates, his servo slides along the smaller mech’s back to rest in the middle while he cups the other’s helm, thumb rubbing slightly over the other’s audial fin.

“Focus on the pulse of my spark then focus on the other sound that echoes it,” Prowl whispers and offlines his optics, spark singing with the contact of the mech. Outsider Jazz gasps when he pulls back. 

“I think I heard it,” outsider Jazz smiles and jumps up on Prowl’s hips, lips smashing against the Praxians as the force of Jazz’s hit causes them to fall onto the berth. Prowl pulls the mech closer, vents gasping to cool his frame as the smaller mech presses his servos on his chest and abdomen. He slides his servos down the silver and black outsider’s frame, resting them on the other’s hips as the outsider slides his servos up to cup his helm. The sound of someone walking up the stairs comes but neither mech cares as Prowl slips back to lean on the wall at the top corner of the berth as outsider Jazz follows him, only nanokliks passing between each break in a kiss. The door opens and outsider Jazz jumps when his Sire calls his designation loudly. Prowl grabs onto outsider Jazz’s chest, gently pulling him closer to use him as a shield. “Sire, I thought you were gone on a trip?” 

“This is what you’ve been doing when I’m away?” the outsider asks as he walks over to the berth. Prowl’s visor brightens as the mech looms over them. 

“Sire, I . . . I want you to meet Barricade, he’s the one I’ve been . . . I’ve been meeting at the fountain,” outsider Jazz hangs his helm. Prowl slides his clawed servo under the sheet of outsider Jazz’s berth as this other servo still clutches the other’s chest. He watches outsiders Jazz’s Sire closely from behind the visor, it wouldn’t do to deactivate his possible sparkmate’s Sire but if the outsider attacked him then he would have to fight back. 

“That explains a lot,” the outsider says and holds out his servo to Prowl. Prowl stares at it, mouth open a bit and helm tilted. Is this some sort of lure? What did the outsider want from him?

“Yeah, he’s not from around here,” outsider Jazz smiles up at his Sire. “Barricade, why don’t you shake my Sire’s servo?” 

“I . . .” Prowl starts, servo sliding against Jazz’s chest, claws slightly scraping over the other’s plating. He reaches out his servo and grasps the others in a motion he remembers seeing from the ridge of other’s greeting each other. “It’s a pleasure to meet you finally, Sir.”

“You don’t need to call me sir,” the outsider laughs, shaking Prowl’s servo, the outsider’s other servo clasped over his silver one. “You wouldn’t be part of a hunting party would you?”

“Sire-“ outsider Jazz starts but is interrupted, Prowl puts his servo back against outsider Jazz’s chest when other releases it. 

“Actually, I am, well sometimes,” Prowl smiles, careful to keep his fangs hidden, the crystals his fangs are created out of change to mimic the average length of outsider Jazz’s and his sire. His smile widens as outsider Jazz’s Sire teases the smaller mech. Outsider Jazz’s slight frown goes unnoticed by his Sire but not Prowl. 

“Well, I’ll let you two have some privacy, Barricade, will you be staying for afternoon Energon?” the outsider asks, Prowl glances at outsider Jazz who nods slightly.

“Yes, if that is alright with you,” Prowl smiles to the outsider then to outsider Jazz. His other servo slips out from under the blanket to hold outsider Jazz’s servo, still being hidden by the other’s frame.

“Don’t tire yourselves out too much,” the outsider smiles and leaves the room. Outsider Jazz sighs and jumps off the berth to make sure his Sire is gone and closes his door. Prowl flinches at the sound of the lock and looks up when Jazz turns around. 

“Okay, spill, how did you lose your fangs?” outsider Jazz asks climbing onto the berth. Prowl pulls the outsider into another kiss as he smiles, the outsider’s glossa runs over his fangs. The outsider smiles, servos pressing over his chest plates as the outsider straddles his lap. 

“Should I know your Sire’s designation?” Prowl asks kissing down outsider Jazz’s neck, licking over the past wound which causes outsider Jazz to flinch and giggle. “Does that hurt? Or tickle?”

“Tickles,” outsider Jazz giggles louder as Prowl continues to lick there. The outsider gasps as his digits rake down Prowl’s back. 

“Careful,” Prowl growls into the outsider’s audio. Outsider Jazz tips his helm in confusion and runs his digits over Prowl’s back, slightly harder than before. Prowl growls, fangs pressing against the outsider’s neck. His sensory panels register there is pressure but without the full range he doesn’t know if it’s enough to hurt his sensitive panels or supposed to feel good. “My back is sensitive.”

“Oh,” outsider Jazz takes his servos off the Praxian’s back. “I thought you meant something else. Are all Praxians’ backs sensitive?”

“I will not tell you that,” Prowl trails his claws over Jazz’s helm, the silver mech flinches as a claw scrapes an audial horn. He licks the horn in apology which makes Jazz moan and grab onto the Praxian’s chest plates. Why would he tell an outsider a weakness? Is it some kind of lure?

“So, it’s not a good sensitive,” outsider Jazz frowns, helm resting against Prowl’s. 

“Not at the moment,” Prowl pulls outsider Jazz over him as he lies on his back on the berth. 

“At the moment?” outsider Jazz asks, smirking down at the Praxian. Prowl trails his claws along the outsider’s chest to rest his servos on the other’s sides. “Does that mean later it won’t be sensitive?” 

“Perhaps,” Prowl smiles, leaning up to steal another kiss. “I’m sorry for telling you to never see me again. It was a mistake.”

“You could have killed me, I didn’t know your Sire was that mean,” outsider Jazz sighs, a shudder runs over his frame as he slides down to lay on Prowl’s frame. Heat builds between them and Prowl hums as his spark sings, ready to merge. He keeps his lock on his chestplates where they are, he still doesn’t trust this mech with his spark even if they are sparkmates. 

“He’s normally not but after the hunt that killed my siblings, I only have two brothers left and both of them are bonded and live with another clan. I’m his only creation not killed or gone. Both of my creators are protective of me.”

“Oh, I get that, you’ve seen my Sire’s worry over me,” outsider Jazz looks away then smiles, sliding his servos down Prowl’s frame. “You wanna do something before going down to have afternoon Energon?”

“You won’t stab me in the back?” Prowl asks, needing to make sure he isn’t going to make the same mistake Sliverwing did. “A fellow clan member was deactivated by a femme he thought loved him.”

“You didn’t kill me so I trust you, I didn’t let the hunters kill you,” outsider Jazz smiles. “Besides you interest me and I don’t let go of something that interests me easily.”


	11. Chapter 11

Prowl watches as the silver mech recharges against him. He trails his claws over outsider Jazz’s, no, Jazz’s helm. The mech moves closer as he trails his claws over the mech’s shoulder and then arm. He presses a kiss to the mech’s helm before sliding off the berth and exploring around the mech’s room. He starts near the berth, claws trailing over the marble counter top, small metal and crystal figurines sit on it. He walks in front of the window, looking out over the Sea of Light, the light from the chasm shimmers in the diming light of the setting star. He glances back at Jazz before continuing through the room. He steps up to a large shelving unit, just a few pedes to the left of the window; it contains numerous data-pads. He decides to come back to that after looking around the rest of the room. 

He steps over to the desk, data-pads, like the one Jazz’s drawings are contained in, are scattered over the shiny metal surface. There are numerous styluses scattered over it as well as a few single holographic sheets with wispy lines in some kind of design like a crystal tree. He picks up one and sees a wispy form of a Praxian without sensory panels. The Praxain looks similar to his frame; a glyph is drawn under the Praxian, a glyph he can’t read. He sets the sheet on the desk before moving on past the door leading to the rest of the estate. He passes by the counter which held the statue made from Lightrain’s armor; the other crystal figurines are just made of tree bark. He glances at the chest beside the counter and cautiously sidesteps it to walk between the couch and large cushion-like items scattered on the floor in front of a thin crystal-like screen. He looks back to the berth, Jazz still lies in recharge and he steps out of view of the berth. He walks up to a small table set up in the corner of the room, a multi-level holographic checkered board hovers over the table. 

He glances to the left and sees a large shelving unit filled with metal boxes, glyphs written all over them and he walks over to trace his claw over them. Unlike Jazz’s drawn glyphs theses seem harder and less alive, he glances behind him to see a large table empty of anything, the crystal top sings, the song chilling his spark as he reaches out to touch it. The moment he touches it he realizes whose armor part of it is made of, each panel of crystal sings differently meaning multiple Praxians were killed to make it. His sensory panels quiver on his back as he hears the designations of the Praxians. Five Praxians. Five Praxians he actually knew from his clan. 

“I am so sorry for your fate,” Prowl whispers, sliding his claws over the crystal panels. He glances up, able to see the berth from this corner of the table. Jazz turns over in his recharge to face him, visor dark as he grabs onto one of the various pillows lining the top of his berth. How could someone as innocent as Jazz have so many things made out of his kind’s armor. To think he just interfaced with that very same mech whose Sire kills his kind for a living. Prowl rubs his chestplates, spark pulsing painfully at that thought. 

He turns away from the table, remembering to stay away from this part of the room later, and glances at another counter top covered in crystal panels. He gasps as he feels the Praxian songs vibrating. Looking around the area he sees a sheet of holocanvas standing in front of the walls covered in windows which overlooks the crystal forest and towards the fountain. He backs away as the songs become too much, staying a few pedes away so that he cannot pick them up. He glances at the sectioned off room and heads into it. He comes into a large metal room; a sinking feeling comes to his spark as he steps into the cutout spot on the floor. Is this where the Praxians come to be stripped of their armor? He walks over to the controls, maybe if he can destroy it then no other Praxians will have to deactivate. He turns a knob and a hissing sound comes before something attacks him. Prowl screams and hisses as he runs to the corner of the room, pinned to the wall and unable to pass by the monster to the door. He slowly holds out his claws, ready to strike the endless monster. The monster attacks his servo and Prowl pulls away, staying close to the corner. The sound of someone coming causes Prowl to glance up and see Jazz standing at the doorway. 

“You tricked me,” Prowl growls, claws flexing as he tries to figure out the best escape. 

“What do ya mean?” Jazz frowns as he glances from Prowl to the solvent. “Ya coulda told meh ya wanted a wash. I woulda came ta help.”

“That is not washing, that is a monster that you use to strip Praxians of their armor,” Prowl growls, crouching to pounce as Jazz walks closer. 

“Easy,” Jazz holds up his servos and he walks under the monster spewing who knows what. It pings off his armor, Prowl crouches lower. Jazz holds out his servo for him. “It won’t attack you. Just trust me, it’s harmless.”

“Why would I trust you anymore?” Prowl growls, ready to bolt as fast as he can. 

“Barricade, I don’t want to hurt you,” Jazz cups his servos and they fill up with the substance. Prowl hisses when Jazz throws it at him, blocking most of his frame with his arm, the substance splashes against his arm. No pain comes from the area and he looks up. “Trust me.”

Prowl trembles as he slides his servo into the outsider’s, it doesn’t look like he’s going to get out of the estate unless he does what Jazz says. Jazz pulls him under the monster; the substance hits his frame, pinging against it. He continues to tremble, bracing for the pain of his armor being stripped from him but it never comes. 

“See, ya alright,” Jazz smiles up at him. Prowl glances around, holding his servo up and the substance fills his cupped servo. 

“What is this?” Prowl asks, it looks like the water from the river and the water from the fountains but it’s a different shade of blue. It couldn’t possibly be the same. 

“We call it solvent, it’s water with soap in it,” Jazz says and takes a bottle from the shelves in the wall. He hands the bottle to Prowl who looks over it. The same glyphs he cannot read are all over the bottle. 

“It’s harmless?” Prowl looks up at Jazz who nods.

“As harmless as the fountain,” Jazz smiles before pulling Prowl down for a kiss. “I take it you don’t have washracks in your house?”

“We clean ourselves in the river that runs through our . . . our city,” Prowl frowns and hands the bottle back to Jazz. 

“Oh,” Jazz trails a solvent drop down Prowl’s chest. “Well we better get dried for afternoon Energon.”

“How do you dry?” Prowl asks as he watches Jazz turn the knob the other way. 

“Well there’s a heater dryer but that might scare you,” Jazz frowns as he takes Prowl’s servo again. 

“It will not hurt?” Prowl asks as he holds on tighter to Jazz’s servo. The outsider shakes his helm and presses a button on the wall. A loud thunderous sound comes and Prowl flinches, moving closer to Jazz who wraps his arms around him. Air passes over his plating, no pain comes and he relaxes. “Your culture is very strange.”

“I bet yours would be strange to me,” Jazz smiles as the noise subsides and their frames are completely dry. “Ready to go out of my room?”

“I . . . suppose so,” Prowl glances around the room as he is lead to the door and down the stairs to the large room by the door. “Your home is large and open compared to mine.”

“Well, this is what a lot of credits gets you here,” Jazz shrugs and leads Prowl down the marble stairs and through the large room that towers many pedes above him. They enter a small room, at least the ceiling is lower, various counters and shelves line the walls and a couch and table sit in the middle of the room. The shelves are filled with data-pads and the counters are covered with crystal figurines. His spark pulses painfully at past experience with statues made from crystals. Jazz squeezes his servo to gain his attention and Prowl looks into the room they’re heading into. He frowns at the table covered in crystal panels. 

“Jazz,” Prowl says quietly, Jazz glances up at him. “The table-“

“Finally you two showed up for afternoon Energon,” Jazz’s Sire smiles as he walks into the room from another doorway. Jazz pulls Prowl along to sit beside him at the table. Prowl bites his glossa as the Praxian songs seem to scream at him as he sits there. He forces a smile at Jazz’s Sire and notices other mechs in the room around the corner. Those mechs come out with silver trays of different sorts of Energon. They set the trays on the table before leaving back into the room. Prowl glances at Jazz and Jazz’s Sire chuckles. “I take it you don’t come from a very wealthy family?”

“No, we never have this much Energon in so many different varieties,” Prowl looks at the tray holding glyph shaped solid Energon, to the gelled Energon, to the container of creamed Energon and finally to small cubes of Energon. 

“Where did you find this mech, Jazz?” Jazz’s Sire laughs and Jazz giggles a bit. 

“I think in the woods,” Jazz grabs one of the solid Energon glyphs and hands it to Prowl. “No, actually I found him wandering around the village.”

“So where do you come from?” Jazz’s Sire asks as he fills the silver platter with the various Energon lying out on the table. 

“A village not far from here as a matter of fact,” Prowl says as he tries the solid Energon. He gasps at the sweetness packed inside the small Energon. 

“Never had Energon goodies?” Jazz’s Sire smiles as Prowl shakes his helm. 

“May I have another?” Prowl asks, looking to Jazz then to Jazz’s Sire. 

“Ya can have all that you want,” Jazz chirps and takes the container of gelled Energon. “Wanna try this?”

Prowl nods and watches as Jazz cuts into the gelled Energon, he sets the cubed shape on his platter. The Energon wiggles as it sits. 

“Is it alive?” Prowl watches it dance in place, the outsiders start laughing. Prowl glances up at Jazz. 

“No, it just does that because it’s gelled,” Jazz smiles and hands Prowl the silver bowl shaped stick. The tips of Prowl’s claws change to mimic the colors behind them, seeming invisible, as he takes the stick out of Jazz’s servo. Jazz uses his to pick up some of the gelled Energon from his platter, Prowl copies him and tastes the Energon. It’s not as sweet as the goodies but the texture is nothing like what he expected. It’s soft yet unable to dissolve. Jazz grabs the creamed Energon and dumps a pile onto his platter as well as his own. He uses the same stick to pick up some of that. The Energon is cool on his glossa, sweeter than the gelled but still not as sweet as the goodies. 

“There are so many different flavors of Energon, I never knew,” Prowl looks at Jazz. 

“Sire, can I take a tray of Energon goodies up to my berthroom?” Jazz asks, smiling at his Sire. 

“I don’t see why not,” Jazz’s Sire smiles and one of the mechs from the other room comes in and Jazz’s Sire tells them to make a tray of Energon goodies for Jazz and his friend. “So are you staying the dark cycle?”

“I . . . I suppose I could, the forest is dangerous during dark cycle,” Prowl frowns. “I wouldn’t want to run into any predators out there on my way home.”

“You are welcomed to call your creators if you wish,” Jazz’s Sire says. 

“Call?” Prowl frowns at the unfamiliar word. “I . . . I don’t what that is.”

“Tell your creators you’re fine,” Jazz’s Sire frowns slightly. 

“His creators don’t have a comm link,” Jazz interrupts to Prowl’s rescue. “Right, Barricade?”

“Yes, they don’t have a . . . comm link,” Prowl looks at Jazz, a small sigh escapes him, but the sound is absorbed in his armor. “I’m actually growing tired, I onlined early in the orn. If you don’t mind me going back to Jazz’s room to rest?”

“By all means, you’re a guest of our house, recharge whenever you like,” Jazz’s Sire smiles. “The maids will bring up the tray of Energon goodies later.”

“Thank you,” Prowl says as he stands, the crystals still humming loudly at him which has been giving a helmache all the while. 

“You know the way back to my room right?” Jazz looks up, ready to leave to show Prowl the way.

“I do remember,” Prowl smiles and walks out of the room, he sighs as he steps to the doorway of the large room. He takes off running, trying to spend as less time in the open as he can and runs right to the stairs leading up to Jazz’s room. He opens the door and closes it, back pressed against the door as his vents try to catch up. He trembles and slides to the floor, frame shaking as he cries for the loss of Praxian life to become decorations for the outsiders. He pulls himself up by the edge of the desk and crawls onto the berth. He pulls the thermal blankets up and appears to be in recharge while he stares at the wall. 

How could I have fallen so easily for Jazz? Prowl trembles as he pictures himself getting stabbed in the back like Sliverwing. This cannot keep going on. This has to end next orn. I’ll leave and never see Jazz again. 

His spark pulses painfully in his chest at that thought. Never see Jazz again? The sound of something snapping causes him to jump up into sitting position and look around the room. Nothing is changed so he lies back down. Something jumps on the berth and Prowl glances over to see the red and white turbofox. The turbofox walks over to him and nuzzles his arm. Prowl moves his arm and the small creature buries itself against his chest. Why would Jazz keep an animal like a turbofox if he wanted to hurt a Praxian? Turbofox pelts were highly sought after by outsiders, traps in the forest often had turbofoxes in them.


	12. Chapter 12

Prowl jumps slightly as the door opens in Jazz’s room, the silver mech backs into the room with a tray of goodies, the door closes and locks as Jazz scoots stuff off his desk to lay the tray on it. Prowl watches as Jazz tries to move around the room quietly, the outsider keeps making noises and looking over to see if he’s still in recharge. His visor is dark, but his optics are still on and he keeps his face neutral of emotions to continue to watch Jazz. Jazz moves around his room, picking up crystal figurines and placing them into the chest. Figurines that are made of tree bark, but apparently Jazz thinks they’re made from Praxian armor. He smiles slightly at the action. He frowns when Jazz nears the table. He sees the frown on Jazz’s face and watches as the silver mech walks back over to the desk. Prowl slowly moves his helm to watch as the small mech disappears from view. Pulses later he sees Jazz pop back up with some sort of material in his arms. Jazz walks back to the table and spreads the blankets over the table to hide the crystal. Not that that would keep the Praxian songs from singing it would muffle them. Jazz covers the counter by the windows as well. 

Jazz walks over to the berth and climbs onto it to lie beside him, Prowl holds completely still as Jazz leans in to give him a kiss. He slowly kisses him back, sliding his servos over the silver mech’s sides. 

“Sorry for making you online,” Jazz whispers and kisses down his neck. 

“Best way to online,” Prowl smiles pulling Jazz closer. “Do you always lock your door?” 

“No, but I thought you’d feel safer if I did,” Jazz frowns as he looks down at him. 

“I . . . I actually feel trapped when you do,” Prowl glances away and Jazz scoots off the berth to unlock the door. 

“Better?” Jazz asks and jumps on the berth when Prowl nods. “I brought you some Energon treats up if you want some more.”

“Maybe later,” Prowl smiles as he pulls Jazz over him. The turbofox hums in recharge, buried in the pile of pillows above their helms. 

“Firesky likes pillows,” Jazz giggles and reaches up to pet the turbofox. Prowl kisses Jazz over the spark as the smaller mech leans over him. Jazz looks down and moves back to sit on Prowl’s hips. “Look, I . . . I like you a lot and I don’t know what your kind’s custom is but I’d rather not merge anytime soon. I hope that’s alright. I just . . . I don’t want to get hurt like that, I know you probably won’t hurt me like that . . . but-“

Prowl silences him with a kiss, pulling him down to lie on his frame. “Praxians . . . don’t merge with mechs unless they know about them. I didn’t want to merge so soon anyway. What brought the thought up?”

“You kissed over my spark,” Jazz slides his servos over Prowl’s shoulders as he rests his helm under Prowl’s chin. 

“Is that action considered asking for permission to merge?” Prowl asks and feels Jazz nod under his chin. “I am sorry for it seeming like that. In Praxian culture it means holding someone close to their spark.”

“I like that meaning a lot more,” Jazz hums and slips into a light recharge over Prowl’s frame. A few Joor into the dark cycle Jazz slides off his frame and curls up beside him. Prowl takes the time to slip away and off the berth to explore the estate. He quietly opens and closes the door before descending down the stairs. He comes out of the stairwell to the hallway that leads down to the large room. There is another to the left of the stairwell and he tries the door to find it unlocked. Once inside he sees the whole room lined with shelves containing data-pads. Another room is connected to it and that room is lined with tables holding various crystal figurines. The Praxian songs scream at him, the only time the songs scream is when the Praxian was brutally deactivated. He steps into the room, the screams stab his frame and he falls to his knees grabbing his helm. He retreats back into the room with the data-pads to catch his vents. Only Praxians can hear the crystals humming, if outsiders could they would know what their hunts did to their most prized trophies. Prowl runs out of the room and down the hall to the next door beside the marble stairs. 

He glances around before opening it to see many trophies of animals the hunter has slain. All stuffed to look the same as when they were alive. He steps into the room and looks at the Arcitheryum that attacked Jazz in the forest. His claw and fang marks still present in the cyberbear’s frame. He looks at a turbofox, an older version of Firesky, possibly Jazz’s turbofox’s Sire. He walks by a lilleth’s frame, it’s an exact copy of the one Jazz had in his data-pad. Prowl steps up to the next stand still looking at the lilleth. When his optics fall onto the next trophy he covers his mouth with his servos to keep from screaming. Standing on the stand is a Praxian guard, black and white armor glistening in the dim lighting of the window on the other side of the room. The crystal armor hums in a familiar tune though slightly screaming but quietly due to the time it’s been without a spark. Sensory panels quiver against Prowl’s back as he stares at the full framed guard. 

“GrandSire,” Prowl reaches a clawed servo out to lay on the Praxian guard’s chestplates, as he looks up to the grayed faceplates. 

“I see you found my trophy room,” Prowl jumps slightly, glancing over his shoulder to see Jazz’s Sire, servo still resting on the Praxian’s chest. 

“I’m sorry, Jazz gave me permission to look around while he recharged for a while,” Prowl says, reigning in his emotions and calming his spark. 

“Beautiful isn’t it,” the outsider nods to the Praxian guard. 

“Mmm,” Prowl hums in a neutral agreement as he takes his servo off the Praxian’s chest. “How did you find . . . it?” 

“I was with Jazz’s Carrier on a picnic in the crystal woods,” the outsider says, Prowl watches the outsider’s optics dim. “She loved the crystal woods. She was one of the few who wished that we didn’t come to Praxus and make this city. A pack of Praxians came upon us and if not for my swift action Jazz would have been orphaned. Jazz’s Carrier died in my arms as a result of that Praxian attacking us. Jazz doesn’t know how his Carrier deactivated and I don’t want him to know this story so please do not tell him.”

“I will not,” Prowl nods and glances at the Praxian before looking at more of the trophies around the room. 

“Would you rather I show you around or venture around yourself?” Jazz’s Sire asks as Prowl finishes looking at the trophies. 

“By myself if that is alright,” Prowl smiles, Jazz’s Sire nods and walks down the stairs. Prowl stays close to the wall as he ventures down the stairs. He peeks around the stairs to see an open doorway leading to the kitchenette with mechs busily walking around with Energon cubes and trays. He turns left at the bottom of the stairs, the opposite way from the dining room and the cursed table. He walks into the room with a large couch spanning the far corner, a large crystal tree bark window is to his right, the drapes are pulled slightly to obscure passer byers from looking in. The same kind of thin crystal sheet is in the corner of the room as the one in Jazz’s room. He passes through to the other room connecting with this one and finds it full of shelves of crystal fragments. This must be the storage Jazz was talking about, tree bark as well as Praxian armor sits on the shelves and tables. He walks further into the room, to the back corner where his pede hits the rug and makes an echoing sound. He looks down at the rug before pulling it off the floor. He finds a trap door under it. Looking around before pulling the door up he descends down the dark stairwell, it reminds him of the tunnels down to their city. He keeps his sensory panels tucked against his back as he holds out his servos for his claws to travel along the wall. He comes to the end of the stairs; a light is on farther into the room, chains rattling echoes in the room as he walks closer to the wall and staying to the darkness. 

A scream stops him in his tracks and a mech starts begging by him, he feels a tug to his spark as he realizes how close the mech is. He looks up at the mech in the cage he’s hiding behind. Bright blue Energon stains the purple frame of the Praxian, the mech’s pink chevron is cracked and broken, the green optics are dim as the mech looks at him. Sensory panels quiver on the Praxian’s back, the only part of him that isn’t mangled or injured. 

“What are you doing here?” the mech whispers, Prowl glances around to make sure no one else is around before speaking. 

“I—“ Prowl starts but the Praxian hisses, sensory panels go low on the other’s back. 

“You’ve sided with these monsters,” the Praxian growls, Prowl shakes his helm as he looks at the other mech. “You should be ashamed of yourself. You’d allow one of your kind to be tortured and slowly killed. Are you here to watch them strip us of our armor? You should kill me now, it’s the merciful thing to do.”

Prowl reaches into the cage, in one swift movement the Praxian falls limp, only a little Energon trickles out of the mech’s neck. The Praxian’s armor quiets to a small hum. Each Praxian knows how to kill another to make their armor lull as if they deactivated naturally. Prowl slips around the cage to see another Praxian’s sparkless frame. The armor quietly screams at him. He comes to the lighted part of the room, he gasps quietly and hides behind the cage as he sees Jazz’s Sire with a live Praxian strapped to a berth. His spark pounds in his chest at the cries the Praxian makes. He recognizes the Praxian as one of the mechs who attended the sparkmate gathering. Prowl covers his mouth to keep from making any noise as he watches as the outsider pulls the armor off the Praxian. Why would anyone want to hear the cries of another living being?

His tanks churn at the sight of Energon dripping off the berth and puddling on the ground, the Praxian’s protoform grays from the light blue. Some of the outsiders are truly monsters. How could Jazz’s Sire be so kind to him a few kliks ago and then be so monstrous?

“Sire,” Jazz’s voice comes from behind him and Prowl watches as the silver mech walks into the lighted area. Jazz stops at the cage he’s hiding behind and looks at his Sire. His spark pulses painfully when Jazz comes into view of the Praxian on the berth. Shouldn’t Jazz be telling his Sire to stop torturing the Praxian? Spark pulsing painfully as he remembers Jazz saying that he never even knew the Praxians came here. 

“Yes, Jazz,” the outsider looks up as he takes the Energon coated crystal armor to a tub to wash. 

“I lost Barricade,” Jazz sighs, leaning against the cage. Prowl jumps at the designation, spark pulsing like it wants to reach out to Jazz and say “I’m here”, but that would mean Jazz’s Sire would see him and ask him why he’s down here. “He’s not in my room and I looked all over the house.”

“I ran into him in the trophy room a few kliks ago, he said you told him to explore the estate while you recharged.”

“Yeah, but I guess I didn’t think he’d go so fast that I’d lose him,” Jazz rubs the back of his helm and walks over to the now still frame of the Praxian. Why would Jazz cover for him? Maybe this whole thing is a ploy to find where their home is. “Where’d ya pick this one up?”

“I believe we found the entrance to their den,” the outsider says. Prowl flinches and looks up at the mech. How could they have found the tunnels? Each entrance is hidden. “I forgot to ask if Barricade would want to come out hunting one orn.”

“I don’t know, he’s never really talked to me about hunting and stuff,” Jazz steps up to the berth holding the Energon soaked Praxian. Prowl trembles as Jazz reaches his servo out to pick up a shattered off piece of armor. The small crystal that acts like their last line of defense in protecting their spark. One of his servos covers his own chest over his spark as Jazz raises the crystal up to the light. “Yah know, he might be outside.”

“I’ll save you any small fragments of the Praxian armor I can’t sell.”

“Thanks, Sire,” Jazz chirps and walks toward the stairs. Prowl glances at the Praxian before following Jazz silently. Why would Jazz want to keep part of the Praxian’s armor. Is it his kind of trophy? He follows Jazz outside through the kitchenette, the mechs pay them no mind. They walk out into the darkness, though crystal lights shine around the yard, illuminating it so that nearly every corner is lit. “Barricade, are you out here? Barricade?”

“You lied to me,” Prowl growls as he grabs Jazz and pins his arms to his chest. Jazz squeaks as Prowl grabs him. He growls beside Jazz’s audio. Jazz holds completely still. 

“What about?” Jazz looks up at Prowl, helm lying on Prowl’s shoulder. Blue visor illuminating the Praxian’s face. 

“You lied about ever seeing the Praxians being stripped of their armor,” Prowl growls, fangs bared against Jazz’s neck. “I should deactivate you right now.”

“You told me to lie!” Jazz squirms and breaks free of Prowl’s grasp. He stumbles a bit and turns around to face Prowl. “So what about me seeing the Praxians? It’s not like I’m doing it!” 

“You took the crystal shield from Dusklight!” Prowl yells and pushes Jazz before stomping away. “You’re letting them suffer. Do you know how much pain it would be for armor to be ripped off? Let alone for a Praxian to be online.”

“Barricade, wait!” Jazz jumps and grabs Prowl’s wrist. Prowl growls and snaps at Jazz’s neck. Jazz dodges at the last minute and Prowl’s optics brighten behind his visor. 

“Jazz . . . I’m so sorry . . .” Prowl trembles at the thought of nearly deactivating Jazz. Jazz looks surprised at Prowl. “As much as I hate your part in my kind’s deactivations, I cannot kill you.”

“Huh?” Jazz looks up at Prowl, helm tilted to the side. “Why not?”

“My spark will not allow it,” Prowl rubs his chestplate. He frowns at his spark trying to persuade him to trust Jazz and just bond with him. How could he trust his own spark after what he just saw?

“Well, that’s good to know,” Jazz smiles as he looks at Prowl. 

“Please tell me you haven’t told anyone what I’ve told you about the Praxians, don’t lie to me this time,” Prowl takes Jazz’s servos in his. 

“Follow me up to my room and I’ll tell you everything of my part with the Praxians,” Jazz sighs and pulls Prowl along and up to his room. Prowl hesitates slightly at stepping into the house where Praxians are deactivated. His spark tells him that’s irrelevant and the main point in being here is to be with Jazz. Once in the room, Prowl sits on the berth while Jazz pulls one of the chairs over and sits in front of him. He holds the crystal shield up between them. “I collect these from every Praxian that my Sire brings here. They’re harder than any other part of the Praxians so they can’t be molded into a form. My Sire was just going to toss them because they were useless and had stuff etched all over them. No one would want them. I asked to keep them, he gave them to me. My Sire doesn’t know what they are or what they’re used for. They’re always lying in the Praxian’s spark chamber when my Sire takes off the chest armor. I think he believes they’re a Praxian’s frozen spark or something, like their spark hardens once they deactivate. I don’t know what they’re used for either. Do you?”

“What have you told about what I’ve told you about my kind?” Prowl trembles a little at the screams of the spark shield. He looks up to Jazz’s visor, the light flickers a little. 

“Nothing, I haven’t told my Sire, I don’t have any friends here and my friends in Polyhex could care less,” Jazz looks up at Prowl, one servo resting on the Praxian’s knee. Prowl takes the crystal shield in his servos, carefully cupping it like one would do a sparkling. 

“These etchings are our glyphs, they’re the glyphs every Praxian is created with. Creators pick from a list of glyphs and meanings for their creation to live by. Dusklight’s is faith. He was happy and caring about others. He never wavered in a cause he believed in and always believed we would one orn come back to the surface. I don’t even know how he could have deactivated.”

“My Sire says there’s a whole bunch of winged Praxians who sneak around the forest,” Jazz frowns at Prowl. “Their wings give them away and my Sire’s hunting party only catches a few at a time to not scare them off.”

“There are more sneaking out,” Prowl looks down at the shield. Servos shake as he thinks about his first time venturing out into the outside world. He never went farther than the fountain, never stepped out into the clearing until he saw Jazz. Did Dusklight not find his mate in the gathering? Did he venture out and spot an outsider who made his spark pulse differently? Did he fall in love with that outsider and go home with them? Did he not see the warning sides? Is Dusklight’s fate his fate?

“So what does it do?” Jazz asks laying his servo over the top part of the crystal shaped like a shield, Prowl flinches slightly at Jazz’s servo moving from his knee. “It sorta looks like a shield.”

“It shields our spark from your weapons,” Prowl hands the shield back to Jazz, the screams of the shield too much for him. “Please put it away. I can’t stand listening to it anymore.”

“I don’t hear anything,” Jazz holds the crystal up to his audio. Frowning as he looks at Prowl whose tremble gets worse to nearly shaking. 

“Put it away,” Prowl hisses as the sound grows louder and he crawls farther on the berth. 

“Okay, I’m sorry,” Jazz runs to the counter around the corner, the one now covered in blankets. When Jazz returns he looks at Prowl, who is in the corner of his berth, leaning against the wall, with a frown. “So I guess I’ll never see you again after next orn.”

“If that is what you want, though I can no longer deny my spark to see you,” Prowl looks down at the sheets, servos bundling the sheets, his spark screams at him at the thought of not seeing it’s other half. “This past cycle . . . I’ve come to realize you might be one of my sparkmates. Though it disgust me that an outsider is the first one I’ve met-“

“Wait, I disgust you?” Jazz whines and plops down on the chair. Prowl jumps and looks at the mech. Did Jazz disgust him? The afterthought of last cycle’s interface disgusted him for a few pulses until he realized that he actually loved Jazz and didn’t just see him as an outsider. As long as he doesn’t think Jazz as an outsider, Jazz felt like one of his kind, but when seeing Jazz with another outsider, he sees Jazz as the outsider he is. That Jazz disgusts him, the Jazz that watches his kind suffer. The Jazz that uses their armor to make statues to decorate his room. 

“I . . . I did not meant to say it like that,” Prowl sighs and crawls over to Jazz to take his servo. “I meant . . . in my culture it’s seen as disgusting. Though before last orn the thought of interfacing with an outsider disgusted me, I see I was wrong and have come to terms with the fact that my spark is falling for you.”

“You said one sparkmate, you’re going to get another?” Jazz frowns as he looks at Prowl’s servos. 

“If you do not want me, though a Praxian can only merge once and be bonded instantly. The sparkmate I merge with will be the only one I love. I will never look at another anymore than a friend.”

“I want that to be me . . . but I’m not ready,” Jazz looks up at Prowl. Prowl nods and pulls Jazz close.

“I am not either, to bond means the Carrier spark will spark and I do not think my clan would appreciate knowing that I bonded to an outsider and is having his sparkling,”

“So you’re gonna carry our sparklings?”

“It is most probable since my creators’ siblings were all Carriers.”

“So do you forgive me for knowing about . . . you know . . . in the basement?”

“I suppose a little, though my trust in you has fallen to when we met in the fountain clearing, I know you will not hurt me, you haven’t yet, and since you are not torturing them and are saving their shields I cannot hold you accountable for your Sire’s actions. My kind saves their shields when a Praxian passes from natural causes. We also use their armor for other shields and other things around our houses. In fact, my Sire’s creators still live, I guess you could call it that, in our house.”

“You didn’t like the sound of the shield though, how can you stand your Grandcreators in your house?”

“The Praxian song, the sound the crystals make, is a reflection of how they deactivated. The screams, the sound that I can’t stand, are because they were brutally deactivated. The more natural or less violent the deactivation the more calming the song is. They deactivated because they were old. They also deactivated in this Praxus when Praxians lived on the surface.”

“Oh,” Jazz says and crawls up on the berth to lie in Prowl’s arms. “So where’s the shield located? You know, just curious.”

“Above our spark,” Prowl says, spark immediately pulsing to show its other half the spark shield, he allows his chest plates to part, slightly. Only the shield is visible and not the entire chamber. The gold light of his spark shines through the shield, casting the crystal in gold. Jazz raises his servo, visor bright at the color. Prowl holds his vents as Jazz touches the shield. The glyphs shimmer under his touch and Prowl watches Jazz, something in his view of the outsider changes, his spark pulses differently and his trust in Jazz strengthens a little, not as it was before the incident in the basement but to the point of when he followed Jazz into the estate, as Jazz leans down to press a kiss on the shield. 

“What does your glyph mean?” Jazz asks as Prowl closes his chestplates, the withheld vents slowly open again as his spark is covered. 

“Love,” Prowl trails his claws down Jazz’s helm. “My creators chose that glyph for me to find my perfect sparkmate. My oldest brother had just found his bonded and my older brother had found his sparkmate already. I was their last to be created, I upgraded in our new home. I never saw Praxus as it was.”

“So . . . if I had to hunt and I saw you in the forest. Would I target your spark because of the shield or some other part of your frame?”

“With your crossbow, as long as the arrow tip is not made of the shield crystals it will stop at any Praxian’s shield,” Prowl says before silencing Jazz’s next question with a kiss.


	13. Chapter 13

Prowl steps up to the shelf in Jazz’s room filled with data-pads. The rising star light shines in through the window beside Jazz’s berth as he picks one off the shelf and onlines it. Glyphs cover the screen and Prowl moves to sit on the edge of the berth, careful to not make Jazz online as he tries to understand the glyphs. Staring at the glyphs, he comes no closer to deciphering them and sighs. The berth moves behind him and Jazz drapes himself over his back. 

“Whatchya reading?” Jazz asks as he rubs his optics under his visor. 

“I do not know,” Prowl says and hands the data-pad to Jazz. So much for sneaking around to learn the outsider’s glyphs.

“The Encyclopedia? Why do you want to read that?”

“I . . . I cannot read your glyphs,” Prowl looks away. “That is why I asked you what that glyph was on your data-pad. I can only understand your glyphs if they’ve been translated into Praxian. I fear that is too many glyphs to decode.”

“Yeah, maybe I can teach you some?” Jazz asks and hops off the berth. “Do you like fantasy stories or crime stories or mystery or history?”

“Which ever one is your favorite,” Prowl smiles and Jazz picks one off of one of the higher shelves. 

“I’ll check and see what my Sire’s doing this orn and then come back to read it to ya and teach ya some glyphs, ‘kay?” Jazz says, Prowl nods holding the data-pad on his lap. Jazz disappears out of his door and Prowl puts the data-pad in the pocket of his armor before heading out of the estate. The guard at the gate opens it to let him through and locks it after he steps away. Prowl heads out of the village and into the crystal forest where his armor loses its silvery form and takes the misty clear and gray color of the forest. He sighs as his sensors come to life, basking in the star’s light and feeling the warmth of it across his armor. 

He walks to the tunnels, stopping a few pedes away from the entrance as he sees an outsider hunter standing there. A quick scan of the surroundings shows there are no other hunters in the area. The outsider starts to go into the tunnels, Prowl makes a noise and the hunter turns around. Prowl takes off running to lead the hunter away. A large cyberwolf growls as Prowl slides behind a tree to hide. Prowl freezes as he looks at the cyberwolf staring at him. The hunter comes barreling into the area and the cyberwolf takes off for the hunter. Prowl slips into the tunnels as the cyberwolf finishes off the hunter. 

“I hope you know, I was this close in coming to drag your aft back here from where ever you were,” Ironhide grumbles. “Your Sire noticed you weren’t in the house and came to me last cycle to see if you were with me. I told him that you were recharging in the berth to not disturb you. You owe me bigtime youngling.”

“I’m sorry, Ironhide, I . . . I tried to map out the outsider’s village but I had to do it slowly to not raise their attentions.”

“As long as you don’t get caught,” Ironhide sighs and shakes his helm. “Dusklight’s gone missing. His mate’s worried about him.”

Prowl flinches slightly and nods, “I’ll be careful.”

“See to it, and remember, you were staying the cycle at my house, Ratchet’s up to speed on the cover story,” Ironhide says as Prowl leaves. He walks back to his home and walks through the front door, Bluestreak slams into him with a tight hug, knocking him back into the door. 

“Hey, Blue,” Prowl smiles. Smokescreen walks into the hallway to glare at Prowl. 

“So staying here’s too boring for you, is that it?” Smokescreen crosses his arms over his chest and leans against the doorframe. 

“I don’t know what you mean?” Prowl frowns as Bluestreak drags him into the sitting area. 

“You can’t spend time with your brothers that you only see once a vorn but you spend it with the guards you can see every single orn. Is there really a sparkmate or are you interfacing with the guards?”

“Smokescreen,” Prowl growls. “I have a sparkmate and I now know that he truly is my sparkmate. I was with him not the guards but you can’t tell creators that. You know how they are, you remember from telling them about your sparkmates.”

“You’re right,” Bluestreak sighs, Smokescreen sighs as well. 

“Could you at least tell me his designation, just so I know you’re not making it up.”

“His designation is Jazz,” Prowl smiles as he takes a seat on one of the metal stone chairs. “I can’t wait for you to meet him. He’s so different from what I’ve ever thought a sparkmate would be.”

“What’s he like?” Bluestreak asks chin resting on his servos while his elbows rest on his knees. optics bright as he looks at Prowl. Prowl smiles and begins telling them about Jazz, of course keeping the fact that he’s an outsider and all that entails. “Wow, I want to meet him. When can we meet him?”

“I don’t know,” Prowl frowns as he thinks about his brothers meeting Jazz. “Please don’t tell our creators, I don’t want to be pressured into bonding. We both would rather wait to have sparklings.”

“I hear what you mean,” Smokescreen nods. “One sparkling at bonding and then another on the way, I can see why creators had a large house in Praxus.”

“So, do sparklings still play between the village hall and the square?” Bluestreak asks, sensory panels perking up. Prowl nods as a smile comes to his face. The three walk through the tunnels, passing by other Praxians headed home from their work or heading to their work. They come to the large crystal covered multifaceted village hall. Large crystal spires curve upward to the ceiling of the cavern, they glow a soft blue color to signal a hearing is being held. It’ll change to red once the verdict comes. Sparkling squeals come from the left of the village hall and small Praxians run around the opening playing tag. When the sparklings spot the two mechs and the youngling, they cheer and run over. 

“Smokescreen, you’re back, are you gonna play hide and seek with us?” the sparklings ask looking up at the older mech. 

“Bluestreak, you’re here too, yay,” the sparklings cheer. 

“That’s why we came,” Smokescreen smiles as he starts the game by counting, everyone shuts down their optics. The rules for the game are to find each other using only their sensory panels. It allows the sparklings to fine tune their skills with their sensory panels and allows them to learn how to find mech’s and objects in case their sight is taken away from them, whether in a fight with an outsider or the proximity alarms. 

The older Praxians hide around the area, the sparklings move around trying to find them. Prowl’s sensory panels twitch as one of the sparklings walk by his hideout. The sparkling backs up, sensory panels raising high on his back. Prowl holds completely still as the sparkling walks closer to him. The sparkling backs away, finding nothing with his sensory panels. 

After a few round of playing hide and seek and the sparklings complaining that they couldn’t ever find Prowl the three older Praxians head back home as their recharge cycle comes. 

Prowl looks over at Bluestreak who recharges on the floor. The house is quiet and he gets up, moving through the house and out into the dark streets of the city. He slips by the guards, sensory panels folded down and hidden and walks out into the star light, he comes to the fountain to see the silver mech sitting on the fountain wall. His spark sings as he looks at the mech. Prowl slips through the fountain before grabbing the mech by the shoulders. Jazz squeaks as he falls into the fountain. 

“Do you enjoy scaring me?” Jazz asks as he looks up at Prowl. Prowl smiles, pressing a chaste kiss to Jazz’s lips. 

“It shows you not to betray me,” Prowl pulls Jazz on his lap for more kisses. 

“I wouldn’t betray you,” Jazz frowns as he holds Prowl’s servo in both of his as he sits on the other’s lap. 

“I don’t know that for certain,” Prowl frowns as he kisses along Jazz’s helm. Jazz squirms around and straddles the Praxian’s lap, resting his arms on the other’s shoulders. Prowl cups the outsider’s helm as their kisses become longer. 

As the star moves over the sky, Prowl and Jazz move out of the fountain to cuddle on the ground in front of the fountain. Prowl’s helm lies on Jazz’s chest listening to the other’s spark as he watches Jazz draw the crystal trees along the edge of the clearing. 

“Did you steal my data-pad?” Jazz asks as he finishes the picture and Prowl holds the data-pad of the trees and admiring the likeness. 

“I took it, I did not steal it,” Prowl says pulling the data-pad out and hands it to Jazz. He settles against the smaller mech as Jazz onlines the data-pad. 

“That’s stealing in my culture,” Jazz playfully bites Prowl’s chevron. 

“And that means you want to play in mine,” Prowl looks up at Jazz, gold optics dimming slightly. 

“Well then, we can play after I read chapter one and teach you some glyphs.”

“I will learn your language faster than any of my clan, my memory is unmatched,” Prowl slides his claws over Jazz’s servo resting on his abdomen. 

“I should remember to not do anything embarrassing around you then,” Jazz laughs quietly as he turns to the first chapter. He begins reading to Prowl, Prowl points to some of the glyphs he picks up and Jazz tells him what they are. As Jazz finishes the chapter, Prowl takes the data-pad out of the silver servos and slides it back into his pocket. “Why do you take my things?”

“I don’t know, I just do, it gives me a reason to see you again,” Prowl turns around to pin the mech to the ground. “Now we play.”

Jazz giggles as Prowl playfully nips at his armor. He tries to nip at Prowl’s armor but Prowl stops him with a kiss. 

“How am I supposed to play if you keep stopping me?” Jazz frowns up at Prowl. Prowl shrugs as he playfully bites Jazz’s neck, Jazz flinches and moves away as much as he can being pinned to the ground. 

“I will not hurt you,” Prowl kisses along Jazz’s jaw. The star sets as they lie on the ground, Jazz in light recharge and Prowl looking through the mech’s drawing data-pad. He notices the start of a drawing, a Praxian without sensory panels. The armor design is his and Prowl looks down at Jazz. This mech really did want to draw him. Prowl lays the data-pad down on the ground before starting to leave, but keeping watch over the mech as he recharges in the clearing. The mech’s Sire comes into the clearing and rushes to the smaller mech’s side. Jazz onlines and glances around, hiding the data-pad behind him. 

“I thought you were attacked,” Jazz’s Sire hugs the smaller mech. “What are you doing recharging in the clearing?”

“I was with Barricade,” Jazz frowns and glances at the tree Prowl’s hiding behind. Prowl slips behind it more as the hunter looks his way. “He musta left. Sire, there’s nothing here that will hurt me.”

“There are Praxians around here, they killed one of the hunters last orn,” Jazz’s Sire frowns as he continues to look around. “The cyberwolves finished him off and we couldn’t even let his family see his frame.”

“Sire, I have my weapon,” Jazz picks up the crossbow. 

“You’ve never fired your weapon, I think you should enroll in a training class,” Jazz’s Sire says; Jazz moans, helm rolling back. 

“Fine,” Jazz glances over his shoulder as they leave. Prowl heads back to the tunnels, Ironhide nods to Prowl as he walks by and into the streets of their underground city. He walks toward his house but someone grabs his arm. Prowl glances up to see Hallows smiling. 

“A little cyberbird told me that you weren’t supposed to leave the tunnels,” Hallows smirks and Prowl rolls his optics. 

“Who will you tell that is going to believe your word over mine, you have a history of over exaggerating things,” Prowl shakes his helm. “I was just talking to Ironhide.”

“Right, for the whole cycle?” 

“Mech’s lonely,” Prowl shrugs and continues to head for his house. 

“I will catch you,” Hallows growls as Prowl disappears into his house. 

“So . . . you sneak out of the house in the middle of recharge cycle to spend it with your sparkmate?” Smokescreen crosses his arms as he stands in the doorway of the sitting area. 

“How else am I going to spend time with him?” Prowl smirks. “I can’t very well spend the busy cycle or then creators would know and want to know who he is.”

“I just hope you aren’t taking this opportunity to go up to the surface,” Smokescreen frowns, laying a servo over Prowl’s shoulder. “The hunter parties say there’s been an up rise in outsider hunters in the area.”

“Smokey, I’m perfectly safe,” Prowl smiles.


	14. Chapter 14

Prowl watches as Jazz walks into the clearing, over the orns they’ve finished the story and Jazz asked have the story back to copy it into one of his blank data-pads so Prowl can have a copy. He slips through the crystal trees and walks into the clearing, Jazz looks up surprised that Prowl didn’t try to scare him.

“Why didn’t you scare me?” Jazz frowns and looks over the Praxian’s glistening misty clear and gray frame. 

“You draw things that interest you,” Prowl starts, pointing at the data-pad in Jazz’s servos. Jazz nods as he looks up at the Praxian. “Does your interest in them end once you finish that drawing?”

“No,” Jazz frowns. “I just have a picture to remember it by, like the picture of my Carrier. That holo-image was destroyed a while ago, the drawing is all I have left. Why do you ask?”

“Would you want to draw me?” Prowl asks kneeling in front of Jazz as the mech sits on the fountain wall. Jazz’s visor brightens and he jumps up to wrap his arms around Prowl’s neck. 

“I thought you would never give me permission,” Jazz kisses Prowl before pulling him to sit on the fountain. “You don’t know how long I waited to draw you.”

“The wingless Praxians sketches are of me, aren’t they?” Prowl asks as Jazz sits on the ground, data-pad in servo and stylus in the other. Jazz nods slightly as he starts drawing the Praxian. “How is your training going?”

“My training?” Jazz frowns as he looks up at Prowl. The stylus nearly falling from Jazz’s servo. “You heard that conversation?”

Prowl nods and glances over at the crossbow lying on the fountain wall a few pedes away from him. “Are you going to start hunting Praxians once it’s finished?”

“I wouldn’t hunt Praxians, but anyway I’m failing it,” Jazz sighs as he continues to draw the Praxian. 

“Why are you failing? Training is the beginning of survival.”

“I can’t fight, I always get hit.”

“Perhaps I could help you,” Prowl says as he continues to sit still for the other to finish with the drawing. 

“Right, how are you going to enroll in my training class?”

“I meant here. Are you finished drawing?” Prowl asks as Jazz sets down the stylus. Jazz nods and Prowl pounces, giving Jazz no warning. Jazz screams as he’s pinned to the ground. “Fight back, picture me as a predator about to kill you.”

“But you won’t,” Jazz frowns, servos resting on Prowl’s chest. Prowl bites Jazz’s neck and the outsider whimpers in pain. 

“I will hurt you until you learn to fight,” Prowl growls and digs his claws into the outsider’s side, careful to stay away from major Energon lines. Jazz hits his servo over Prowl’s shoulder, Prowl laughs at the weak attempt. “You are doing poorly, you would be deactivated by now if another Praxian attacked you.”

“I don’t know how to fight,” Jazz pouts up at Prowl. 

“Punch, kick, push, dodge,” Prowl says and moves off of the outsider. “Try again.”

Prowl pounces at Jazz. Jazz falls to the ground and curls up. Prowl laughs as he falls to the ground, looking at the outsider from his crouch. 

“You are pathetic,” Prowl shakes his helm as he walks up to Jazz. Over the orn, Prowl teaches Jazz to punch and kick, the outsider gets dodging easily but as Prowl pounces to test the outsider, Jazz continues to curl up in a ball. “Do I have to get another Praxian here to hurt you more than I am willing?”

“No,” Jazz huffs as he leans against the wall of the fountain. 

“Perhaps next orn you can fight with your crossbow,” Prowl picks the bow up and holds it in his servos. 

“I have only fired it once and it wasn’t at you,” Jazz sighs. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Get some of the metal arrows, they do the less damage.”

Jazz nods as Prowl starts to leave. He glances back to see Jazz washing the dried Energon off his frame and picking at a wound on his side he placed there with his claws. The wound leaks some Energon and Prowl walks back to Jazz who squeaks when Prowl starts licking the wound. It heals and Prowl looks over Jazz’s frame for any more serious wounds but only finds small scrapes. 

“Thanks,” Jazz smiles as Prowl leaves. 

The next recharge cycle Prowl slips out of the house, unaware of being followed. He comes to the clearing to see Jazz sitting beside a pile of metal tipped arrows. 

“Are you ready?” Prowl asks as he walks into the clearing, Jazz jumps up and holds the crossbow up, his servos shaking as he follows Prowl with the crossbow. “What are you waiting on?”

“I don’t know, you to say fire?” Jazz shrugs and Prowl pounces, Jazz screams and falls to the ground, crossbow falling to the ground as Prowl lands over him. 

“A Praxian attacking you will not say ‘go’ for you to fire,” Prowl nips at Jazz’s neck, causing some Energon to leak out. “Every time you fail at hitting me, I will cause you to leak Energon. It marks that you have deactivated. Pretend the arrows are crystals, which in certain places can kill us. I will fall when I deem the shot a deactivation shot.”

“Okay,” Jazz nods and Prowl climbs off him to walk to the edge of the clearing. Jazz holds the crossbow, trained on Prowl as Prowl slowly makes his way toward him. Jazz fires, hitting Prowl in the chest, the arrow lodges itself into the Praxian’s armor and Prowl falls to the ground, a growl coming from him and he lies there looking up at the sky. “Prowl! Prowl, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Jazz slides to Prowl’s side, cupping the mech’s helm as he sees the Praxian’s optics off. Prowl starts laughing and onlines his optics, he sits up pulling Jazz into a kiss. 

“There is no lasting damage, it’s actually the first time I’ve been hit by the outsider’s weapons that could have deactivated me,” Prowl grabs the arrow and pulls it out, Energon slowly leaks out before his armor heals. Jazz touches the spot where his arrow was and looks up at Prowl. “We heal fast if the wounds are not deep. Try again, I will not be as easy next time.”

“You scared me, I thought I killed you,” Jazz trembles as he leans on Prowl.

“These cannot kill me unless I leave them in and deactivate from loss of Energon,” Prowl cups Jazz’s helm and presses a light kiss on the outsider’s lips. “I will tell you when to stop.”

Jazz nods and goes back to his position at the fountain, Prowl stands and walks to the edge of the clearing. He looks at Jazz, gold optics burning bright and he runs toward the outsider. Jazz shoots but Prowl dodges the arrow and lunges at the outsider. Jazz and Prowl tumble into the fountain the crossbow goes flying and clatters on the ground. Prowl nicks Jazz’s neck as pain comes from his side. He looks down to see an arrow imbedded in his side. Jazz smirks up at him, Prowl frowns down at the outsider.

“You’re deactivated and I will still be alive,” Prowl moves to pull the arrow out, servo landing on Jazz’s and he freezes. Another pain comes from his chestplates, he moves off of the outsider to see Energon leaking from just under his shield plate. He glances at Jazz before falling to his aft. The arrow is deeper than any metal arrow can go and Prowl pulls the arrow out to see an Energon coated crystal. He glances up at Jazz, gold optics bright. Jazz notices the arrow and scrambles to Prowl. Prowl falls out of the fountain in his attempt to get away. 

“Prowl, I didn’t know it was that kind,” Jazz grabs Prowl’s wrist and holds his servo over the leaking wound. “How do I make it better?” 

“Clean it,” Prowl stumbles and falls against the fountain. Jazz cups his servos under the fountain spray and splashes the water on Prowl’s chestplates. The Energon slowly subsides and Prowl’s helm falls back on the fountain wall. “I’m done for this orn.”

“I thought it was a metal one,” Jazz shakes as he wraps his arms around Prowl’s waist. 

“Why don’t you get your crossbow back over here? It fell on the other side of the fountain.”

Jazz nods and goes to get the weapon, a growl comes from the crystal woods and Jazz screams. Prowl glances over to see a sensory paneled Praxian over Jazz’s cowering frame. He immediately forgets about being low on energy and jumps through the fountain to knock the other Praxian away from his mate. He growls in warning at the other Praxian before noticing who it is. 

“Smokescreen?” Prowl asks when the Praxian growls back and looks at the outsider. Prowl backs to Jazz who loads a metal arrow into the crossbow. Smokescreen jumps toward the two, Jazz hits the Praxian in the chest, the Praxian howls in pain and Prowl screams as his brother falls to the ground. “Jazz, don’t kill him!”

“He attacked me, I thought you wanted me to defend myself?” Jazz frowns as Prowl moves to the other Praxian. He pulls the arrow out, Smokescreen slashes Prowl’s chestplates with his claws. 

“That is Jazz?” Smokescreen growls and glares at the outsider. Prowl nods as he helps his brother to the fountain. Jazz walks over, crossbow at his side and Smokescreen growls in warning as Prowl cleans his wound. 

“Jazz will not hurt you anymore,” Prowl says and glances up at Jazz, Jazz lays the crossbow on the fountain wall. Backing away slightly to give the Praxians room, Prowl scrubs the Energon off his brother’s frame as the armor heals. 

“I’m sorry, I thought he was going to kill me,” Jazz says and climbs into the fountain to help Prowl. Smokescreen snaps at him and Jazz jumps away. Prowl growls in warning at Smokescreen who looks up horrified at his younger brother. 

“Jazz, this is one of my brothers,” Prowl says holding Smokescreen down as the wound heals and Smokescreen tries to lunge for the outsider. “Smokescreen, please, don’t harm Jazz.”

“Why, he’s going to kill you!” Smokescreen growls at Jazz. 

“He will not kill me,” Prowl sighs. “He’s had plenty of times to harm me but he hasn’t.”

“You were fighting just a few pulses ago,” Smokescreen growls and glares over at the silver mech sitting on the far edge of the fountain. 

“He’s failing his training, I am just making sure he can defend himself,” Prowl moves away from Smokescreen for a moment to cup some more water but in that moment Smokescreen lunges for Jazz. Jazz screams and curls up into a ball, servos on his helm. Prowl grabs his brother’s sensory panel before biting the white shoulder. Smokescreen turns on Prowl who jumps away and leaps out of the fountain. Smokescreen follows and Jazz scrambles to the edge of the fountain to watch the two Praxians roll on the ground. Jazz tilts his helm at the sight of the other Praxians fighting yet not doing any harm to one another. 

Prowl laughs as he slides away from Smokescreen’s attempt to grab him. The white Praxian with blue and red stripes along his frame growls and grabs Prowl around the waist. Prowl falls to the ground with Smokescreen pinning him, laughing and gold optics bright. 

“Prowler, are you alright?” Jazz asks as he peeks over the fountain wall. Prowl nods as he glances over at the silver outsider. 

“So he’s supposed to be your sparkmate?” Smokescreen looks at his brother before glancing at the outsider and growling softly. Prowl nods as Smokescreen helps him to stand. “How long have you known him?”

“Fourteen orns,” Prowl looks at Jazz before glancing to his brother. “Please don’t tell anyone about this. Sire already told me to kill him.”

“How could you love an outsider? How many Praxians has he killed?”

“I haven’t killed anyone,” Jazz huffs, Smokescreen growls and Jazz sinks back into the fountain. 

“Smokey, he’s not a hunter, he doesn’t even like hunting. He’d rather draw.”

“You say that now until he stabs you in the back and you slowly deactivate,” Smokescreen glares at the outsider before grabbing Prowl’s servo. “You are coming back with me, if you don’t I will tell our creators what you’ve been doing.”

Prowl glances back at Jazz who pouts, Prowl frowns as his brother pulls him to their underground home. 

“I can’t believe you are falling for an outsider and you actually believe he’s your sparkmate.”

“My spark sings when around him,” Prowl pouts as they enter the tunnel. 

“You haven’t been with any other mech, have you? Maybe you should find a Praxian and forget about that outsider. Do you want to end up like Sliverwing?”

“He will not hurt me.”

“Keep telling yourself that.”


	15. Chapter 15

Prowl walks into the outsider village with his Barricade disguise up and steps up to the gate. The guard looks at him before opening the gate. 

“Thank you,” Prowl nods and walks up to the large estate. He opens the large door and steps into the open foyer. He stays close to the walls as he moves to the stairs. Getting up halfway before Jazz chirps a greeting to him as the silver mech walks in from the kitchenette, Prowl smiles and watches as Jazz joins him on the stairs to go up to the outsider’s room. 

“So, I take it Praxians really hate outsiders?” Jazz asks as he closes his door and Prowl sits on one of the chairs. Prowl nods as he notices data-pads stacked on the small table in front of the chairs. “Those are for you, I made a copy of all the books I plan on readin’ to ya.”

“Smokescreen just doesn’t want me to end up like Sliverwing,” Prowl onlines one of the data-pads. Most of the glyphs are now familiar to him and he understands most of the contents on the screen. 

“Why’d ya decide to trust me?” Jazz plops down on the berth. Prowl carries the data-pad over and crawls to lie beside the smaller mech. 

“You interested me,” Prowl smiles and lays his helm on Jazz’s chest. “Nearly no outsider goes to the fountain to sit. It’s mostly only used by the outsiders for hunting gatherings.”

“So you interest me and I interest you,” Jazz smirks and wraps his arms around Prowl. “Whatchya pick out to read? Splendor and Beast, this is one of my favorites.”

“All of these are your favorites,” Prowl smiles up at Jazz before laying his helm back on the silver chest. 

“I love reading, it’s like living another life,” Jazz smiles and starts reading. “It opens a whole other world.”

“Your village is a whole other world to me,” Prowl hums as he glances over the screen to figure out what the glyphs he doesn’t know are. 

“I could show you around,” Jazz chirps. Prowl glances up at the blue visor, his optics shine brightly and reflect off Jazz’s chin. 

“Should I know anything about your culture?” Prowl asks. “Praxians never shake servos. Is there anything like that I should know?”

“Uh, not really,” Jazz shrugs. “Just that you have to pay if you want to buy something.”

“Pay?” Prowl frowns. “Pay with what?”

“You don’t buy anything where you live?”

“Our Energon is gathered by the hunters and stored. It is distributed by the Enforcers. Each family gets one cube for every member an orn. We normally store about five orns worth.”

“How do you get paint and other stuff?”

“Paint? For armor? We never use paint on our armor. About other things, I don’t know what you mean.”

“You don’t buy any games or craft stuff. “

“Games, what are games?” Prowl tilts his helm to look up at Jazz. Were they like the hide and seek they played with the sparklings and younglings?

“You don’t know what games are? Have you been living under a rock?”

“Actually I have,” Prowl smiles up at the silver mech, leaning up and kissing the silver mech. “Our home is under the forest, technically that is under a rock.”

“Come on, I’ll show you some games,” Jazz smiles, pulling Prowl over to the other side of the room. The crystal furniture is covered with blankets so that their screams are softened. Prowl sits in the chair at the small table while Jazz sits across from him. The table comes to life with a grids and a pile of red and purple pieces in a pile. Prowl reaches out, his servo goes through the grids.

“How does this work?” Prowl asks taking his servo back only to try and touch the grids again.

“It’s a hologram,” Jazz smiles and starts to set up his pieces by dragging them to their place. Prowl starts copying Jazz, dragging the pieced to mirror Jazz’s. Jazz starts to explain the strategy based game to Prowl, who listens intently and they begin playing. Prowl ends up beating Jazz in twenty moves and Jazz frowns through the hologram. “Well, that was unexpected.”

“Jazz,” Jazz’s Sire calls from the base of the stairs. Jazz jumps up and opens his door, Prowl stands at the corner, peeking around it to watch Jazz’s Sire come into the room. “Oh, Barricade, I didn’t know you were here. You could even take Barricade out to get what we need for our next hunt in the mountains.”

“Oh, uh, if it’s alright with Barricade,” Jazz glances at Prowl who nods and comes to stand beside Jazz. 

“Great, here’s the list of all the things we need,” Jazz’s Sire hands Jazz the data-pad and Jazz skims over it.

“I wanted to show Barricade around anyway,” Jazz smiles up at his Sire before taking Prowl’s servo and following his Sire down the stairs and leads Prowl out of the estate. Prowl stays close to Jazz as the smaller mech leads him out of the safety of the gate. “The medical center is across the street,” Jazz points to the multi-level building, “beside it is one of the hunter shops. They mostly have armor there.”

“What is on the list?” Prowl asks, Jazz hands the data-pad over to Prowl who reads over it. 

“Hey Jazz,” a pink and light blue mech walks up with a black and purple mech. “Who’s your friend here?”

“Hi, Springbloom,” Jazz smiles and hugs the light colored mech before turning to the black and purple mech. “Hey, Driftnight.”

“I haven’t seen you out lately,” Driftnight never once glances at Prowl and steps up between them to wrap his arm around Jazz’s shoulders. Prowl backs away slightly, hiding his frown. These were Jazz’s friends; mechs who’ve know Jazz longer than he has. 

“I've been away, busy with hunting and all,” Jazz laughs a bit as he and Driftnight walk down the street. Springbloom walks on Jazz’s other side and Prowl glances to the village entrance before following Jazz. Maybe the mechs will leave and they can get back to what they were doing. “What have you two been up to?” 

“We’ve opened up a trade route to Kaon, they’re paying high for crystal armor,” Driftnight says, servo sliding down to Jazz’s hip. Prowl’s spark pulses hard in his chest, a burning feeling of throwing the mech into the nearest wall creeps up on him before he squashes the feeling. He feels his disguise failing as he watches how Jazz leans into Driftnight every time the mech talks. 

“Barricade, could you pick up these items while I catch up with some old friends, they’re only here a few vorns at a time,” Jazz glances over his shoulder. Prowl nods and takes the data-pad from Jazz as the three mechs walk farther down the street, toward the ships. Prowl looks down at the list. He glances around wondering where he could possibly find these things. His spark pulses painfully in his chest as he wonders what their relationship is, Driftnight and Jazz’s. Were they previous lovers? Were they just friends?

“Are you lost youngling?” an red and blue mech asks. Prowl glances over at him, the blue optics are warm and full of concern. 

“I’m not from this village, my friend wanted to catch up with other friends he hasn’t seen in a while and I don’t know where all these things on his list are,” Prowl hands the data-pad to the mech. 

“I could help you, let me close up my shop here,” the mech says and turns to his store. Prowl notices it is full of crystals. The mech comes back to see Prowl looking at the crystal figurines. “There’s a plant in the forest which produces buds every vorn. If you can pick them before they bloom you can get a relatively good crystal out of the bud. Of course the flowers are amazing too.”

“I’ve heard of that plant,” Prowl says, relieved that this mech isn’t using Praxians to make pieces of art for the outsider’s entertainment. “I could show you how to care for a seedling-“

“Only Praxians know how to,” the mech says, servo resting on Prowl’s back, above his wings. Prowl glances up at the mech. 

“My designation is Orion Pax, my clan was hunted by the outsiders of Iacon. I gave up my appearance of Praxus to avoid being hunted. You should be careful here.”

“How can you stand being around them?” Prowl asks as Orion Pax leads him to the first vendor to get some travel Energon. 

“You learn to adapt when you have nothing left,” Orion Pax smiles at the merchant as he pays for the Energon. 

“Jazz didn’t give me anything to pay for these things,” Prowl frowns as he holds the packets of travel Energon. 

“That’s alright, he’s a very generous customer of mine,” Orion Pax smiles and leads Prowl to the next merchant, telling Prowl of the surrounding shops and about their owners. The only thing left on the list is the weapons and Orion Pax tells Prowl that the merchant doesn’t open his shop until later in the orn. They walk to the small restaurant overlooking the Sea of Light and Orion Pax orders some Energon and an Energon cake for them to share.

“Do you miss being in a clan?” Prowl asks, not even able to imagine not having Praxians around him or living with outsiders every orn. Just staying a light cycle with Jazz strains his sense of security. 

“Yes, very much so,” Orion Pax says as the femme sets their Energon and cake on the table. “I was a guard in training, the hunters came and my creators told me to run and never look back. I could have helped save some of them.”

“You said you gave up your appearance, how is that possible?” Prowl asks as he sips his Energon. 

“The outsider’s paint creates a coat over the crystal armor. It bonds to the crystal armor with time. Outsider’s regularly paint themselves and if a Praxian paints their crystal armor enough times they can pass as an outsider but they have to continuously repaint as the paint breaks down. How are you able to make yourself look like one of them?”

“I have the ability to change my colors,” Prowl smiles but frowns when he glances past Orion Pax to see Driftnight and Jazz kissing. Orion Pax glances over his shoulder and looks back at Prowl whose armor is now just crystal.

“Your armor,” Orion Pax says and Prowl snaps out of disappointment before resuming his “Barricade” disguise. 

“I should leave,” Prowl frowns and picks up the cartons of things he got for Jazz. “It was nice meeting you Orion.”

“Barricade,” Orion Pax lays his servo on Prowl’s arm. “You like Jazz, why don’t you claim him?”

“Claim him?” Prowl looks down at Orion Pax before looking up to see Jazz standing in front of the mech. 

“Go tell that mech that Jazz is yours,” Orion Pax smirks. An idea comes to Prowl’s processor of going up to the mech and punching him in the faceplates when he sees Driftnight reach out to Jazz and Jazz pulls away from him. “Looks like Jazz doesn’t like him.”

“I still should leave,” Prowl says and sets down the crates. “Will you make sure Jazz gets these?”

“Yeah,” Orion Pax frowns as Prowl disappears around the corner of the restaurant.


	16. Chapter 16

Prowl sits on his berth, servos over his optics as his sensory panels tremble. His door opens and he tries to hide that he’s been crying by wiping the Energon tears away. He glances up to see Smokescreen looking down at him.

“Did he stab you in the back?” Smokescreen asks sitting on the berth and looking over Prowl’s frame. Prowl shakes his helm and hugs his brother around the waist, helm laying on his brother’s chest. 

“It’s worse than that,” Prowl sniffles. 

“Worse than being deactivated?” Smokescreen asks as he rubs Prowl’s helm. “What’s worse than that?”

“He was kissing another mech, he doesn’t love me anymore,” Prowl can’t hold back the wave of Energon tears and starts crying again. “I still love him, if he tried to kill me I wouldn’t"

“I have to leave for a bit, are you okay in here alone or do you want Blue up here with you?”

“I’m fine,” Prowl says sitting up again to let Smokescreen leave. Smokescreen presses his chevron against Prowl’s before leaving and heading out of the house.

 

Jazz sits at the fountain waiting for Prowl to come, maybe Prowl had to get back to his family before they worried where he went. He starts to take out his data-pad when a twig breaks in the forest behind him. He jumps up with his crossbow ready to shoot. A blurr of shining crystal lunges at him and he slams into the ground, his vents recalibrate from the force of the impact and he looks up to see the snarling faceplates of Smokescreen. Jazz freezes, should he fight back and hurt Prowl’s brother or let Prowl’s brother kill him. 

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Jazz whimpers as Smokescreen raises his servo. 

“You hurt my brother,” Smokescreen growls, scraping his claws over Jazz’s chest. 

“No I didn’t!” Jazz whimpers and tries to curl up on himself. 

“You don’t love him anymore, he saw you kissing another mech,” Smokescreen growls, fangs glinting in the star light. 

“Who said that?” Jazz pushes away from Smokescreen. “I love Prowl. I wouldn’t leave him. I didn’t want Driftnight to kiss me. Is Prowl alright? Is that why he left?”

“You didn’t do this on purpose?”

“Why would I be out in the forest if I hurt Prowl on purpose?” Jazz asks, fists on his hips as he stands to look at the crouching Praxian. “I don’t have a death wish.” 

“He thinks you don’t love him anymore,” Smokescreen stands, sensory panels never once stopping moving to scan his surroundings.

“Will you tell Prowl that I still love him?” Jazz pouts and Smokescreen turns to leave. 

“It would be best if you leave and never think of Prowl again. He’s risking his life to be near you, an outsider.”

Jazz pouts as Smokescreen disappears into the forest. 

 

Prowl stands in his room, the silvery slab of metal stands propped up against his data-pad shelf. The other side of the “mirror” holds a painting that he normally has over the side of his berth. He creates Barricade’s disguise, the silver mech stands in front of him and the deep sapphire visor hide his gold optics. His chevron is a dark silver, changing it to purple brings color to his bland outsider armor. His helm armor turns black as dark as the tunnels, the crystals around his collar glow purple and his chest armor turns black. His shoulders turn to a deep violet before his arms turn black with a strip of purple along his forearm to his elbow. His servos turn dark silver, nearly black. His waist turns the same color as his servos but with a chevron design in purple. His hips turn black with the top of the armor turning glowing purple. His legs fade into black with glowing purple lines running down the outside of them. His pedes turns dark silver with the raised portions of the armor turning purple. He turns to see his back, the sensory panels fold down, their edges highlight in glowing purple, the back covers the panels with small chevron purple in the dips of the panels. He faces his reflection, the sapphire visor stands out against the black and purple. He slides it back to show his molten gold optics. They slowly fade into a deep lavender shade to match the glowing lines of purple. His faceplates turn silver with the glowing purple along the edge of where his helm meets his faceplates. 

He touches his lips, the memories of Jazz kissing him come into the front of his processor. Maybe Jazz would like this new look for him. He could become this permanently, have one of the outsider painters paint over this disguise to lock the colors in place. He could become the outsider Jazz wants. He could leave his family to be with the mech who makes his spark pulse differently. He could bond with—what if he can’t bond, then he would be stuck as an outsider. He’d foolishly destroy his chance to stay with his clan. 

The main door of their home opens and Prowl quickly saves this version of Barricade before the outsider’s disguise bleeds out of his frame and the black, white and gold Praxian stands there. He quickly places the painting of the crystal gardens over his berth as his door opens. Smokescreen steps into his room watching him. 

“I have something to tell you about Jazz,” Smokescreen says, Prowl flinches and glances up at his brother. 

“Is Jazz . . . is he alright?”

“Jazz said that he . . . that he doesn’t want the other mech,” Smokescreen says. “He didn’t want the mech to kiss him and he wants you to meet him at the fountain.”

“Really?" sensory panels perk up and Prowl jumps up to hug his brother. “Thank you.”

Prowl presses his chevron against his brothers before leaving the house and tunnels to go to the fountain. Reaching the tree line he resumes his new Barricade disguise and walks out into the clearing. He sneaks up to Jazz who is sitting on the fountain wall drawing something in his data-pad. Prowl glances over the silver shoulder to see it’s his old Barricade form he’s drawing. 

“Jazz,” Prowl says quietly to not startle the mech. Jazz glances over his shoulder, data-pad dropping out of his servo as he stands to look at the black and purple mech. 

“Ba-Barricade?” Jazz’s helm tilts down before he looks back up. “What . . . how’d you . . . why?”

“You seemed to like Dirftnight’s coloring, I thought maybe you’d like me to be more like him.”

“I . . . what happened between Driftnight and me . . . we were close friends last time we saw each other. I think he wanted more. I wasn’t interested. There’s nothing between us. But you . . . you look amazing. I didn’t know you could make that much detail in your disguise. Wow.”

“You like it?” Prowl asks smiling as he steps closer to Jazz. 

“Like it, no, I love it,” Jazz hugs Prowl tightly, kissing above his spark. “Can I finish showing you around the village? I know Orion Pax shown you some shops, but he didn’t show you my favorite ones.”

“I would like that,” Prowl smiles and presses a kiss to Jazz’s lips. 

“I’m glad you came back,” Jazz wraps his arms around Prowl’s arm as they walk back to the village. 

“I am glad you didn’t love Driftnight,” Prowl slides his other servo over Jazz’s and presses a kiss to the top of the smaller mech’s helm. Reaching the village, Jazz pulls Prowl along to visit all of his favorite shops besides Orion Pax’s. They decide to stop at the restaurant on the pier to watch the incoming ships while they have their Energon. Jazz climbs onto Prowl’s lap and pulls the Praxian’s arms around him. 

“Would you mind if we go down to the beach after our Energon?” Jazz asks. “Sire never lets me go down there alone. After what happened as a little sparkling. I almost fell in playing on the rocks.”

“I won’t let you fall in,” Prowl tightens his arms around Jazz’s frame. Jazz snuggles up against Prowl more. Once they finish with their Energon they head down the stairs of the balcony of the restaurant. The silver metal shavings glitter in the star light. A femme comes up to Prowl as Jazz walks further ahead of him. 

“Could you help me find my stylus in the sand?” the femme asks. “I was drawing the Sea and laid it down for a moment.”

“What does it look like?” Prowl asks as the femme leads him to the spot she was at. She describes the stylus and Jazz notices Prowl isn’t following him anymore and comes over to them. “She lost her stylus and asked me to look for it. You could help.”

“Oh, I . . . I think I might have actually left it on one of the tables up on the balcony,” the femme says glancing at Jazz before running up to the balcony.”

Prowl frowns as he watches her walk past the restaurant. Jazz starts giggling and pulls Prowl to the shore. 

“She was flirting with you,” Jazz says when he stops giggling. 

“Flirting?” Prowl tilts his helm to the side. 

“Must be your new paint job,” Jazz traces the purple lines along his frame. “Quite the optic catcher.”

“Flirting, we don’t have flirting in our culture,” Prowl frowns as Jazz bends down to pick up a shell, the shell shines different colors depending on the angle. He looks up as a red wave of light comes closer to them and washes over their ankles before receding again. The light dances over the chasm, streams of different colors dance along the horizon, mixing together to make new colors as they collide. Jazz pulls him to the edge of the cliff and kneels down on his servos and knees. Prowl gets down too to look over the edge with Jazz. Jazz reaches down to pick one of the crystals imbedded in the metal cliff. Prowl sees a deep sapphire crystal with onyx and frost mixed in it farther down. “Is it allowed to pick these crystals?” 

“Yeah if you can,” Jazz says and notices the sapphire one. “That one is so pretty, too bad I can’t get down there to get it.” 

“Which one?” Prowl asks and Jazz points to the sapphire one. Jazz sits back on the beach to watch the waves of shimmering light come to them and recede. Prowl reclines back and Jazz snuggles up to him, helm resting on his chest. 

“I hate the part of the orn where you have to leave,” Jazz sighs as he trails his digits over Prowl’s armor. 

“I could stay the dark cycle,” Prowl hums quietly. “I miss onlining beside you.”

“Would you?” Jazz looks up to the Praxian, Prowl nods before leaning in to kiss Jazz. The star sets over the Sea of Light and they stay there a few more pulses before getting up and heading back to the Estate. They run up the stairs and into Jazz’s room where they fall on the berth, kissing and holding each other tightly. “I love you Prowl.”

“I love you, Jazz,” Prowl says.


	17. Chapter 17

Prowl onlines at star rise to see Jazz not on the berth beside him. He hears the noise of the washracks going and glances over to see the dim light on. He glances down to see his disguise in perfect condition as always and stands to go over to the wall of windows part of Jazz’s room. He steps past the Praxian crystal counters covered with blankets. Stepping up to the canvas on the easel, he sees the picture of the forest outside of the window. Prowl glances around before picking up one of the smaller brushes and finding the paint. He puts a small bit of silver out on the palate and starts painting the crystals. The washracks turn off as he finishes adding the small detail on the finished painting and turns to walks to the washrack door. Jazz walks out of the washracks, large towel wrapped snuggly around him and he jumps back when he notices Prowl is in front of the room. 

“Didn’t know you were up, I hope I didn’t make you online,” Jazz looks up at the taller mech. 

“No, I normally don’t recharge very long,” Prowl says and smells something new. “What is that?”

“What?” Jazz asks, squeaking a bit when Prowl leans closer and sniffs around him. 

“You smell like sweetened Energon,” Prowl smirks. 

“Oh . . . uh . . . I didn’t know you could smell that good,” Jazz bites his lip and glances away. “Normal mechs can’t.”

“Is it a new solvent scent?” Prowl asks getting closer to Jazz. 

“Uh . . . no . . . it’s . . . uh . . . just something that happens every couple vorns and lasts a decaorn or so,” Jazz moves away from Prowl, not liking the darker tint his purple optics take. 

“That gives me no information at all,” Prowl frowns as Jazz steps out of his grasp. “It’s not harmful is it?”

“No, it’s actually supposed to be good, I guess, “ Jazz says as he looks at the painting that now looks exactly like the forest. “Wow, how did you get the painting to be so life like?”

“You have to understand the crystals to make them appear life like,” Prowl says as Jazz passes by him and he gets the smell again. He grabs Jazz, kissing along his shoulders and up to his neck. Fangs sink into the silver mech’s neck and Jazz trembles as he feels the Energon dripping down his neck and feels Prowl licking it up. “You even taste good.”

“Prowl?” Jazz shakily asks as Prowl’s servos slide down to his. He flinches as Prowl wraps his arms around him and the fangs of the Praxian dig deeper to get more Energon. “Prowl!”

Prowl jumps away and Jazz covers his neck as Prowl looks horrified at the silver mech, blue Energon leaking through the silver digits. “Jazz, I’m so sorry, I don’t . . . I don’t know what happened.”

“Are you sure you’re not a vampire?” Jazz asks as his Energon levels drop. He staggers a bit and falls to his knees. Prowl kneels in front of him, closing the wound and starts to back away but leans closer to kiss Jazz. 

 

“Jazz?” Prowl onlines to the sound of Jazz’s Sire knocking on the door and calling for Jazz. He moans as he moves from his uncomfortable spot on the floor leaning over Jazz. He rubs his chevron at the rising pain in his processor and starts to stand up but Jazz’s legs are wrapped around his waist and he falls to his aft. Jazz’s muffled moan causes him to look up at Jazz in recharge. “Jazz, I’m going to come in.”

The door opens as Prowl disentangles himself from Jazz only to receive a recharging Jazz tackling him in a hug for warmth. “Jazz.”

“I didn’t know you were here, Barricade,” Jazz’s Sire says and starts to back away to the door. “Tell Jazz when he onlines that I have someone for him to meet.”

“I will,” Prowl nods and falls back on the floor as Jazz snuggles up to him. He glances at the washracks upside down and smirks. He scoots back to the doorway as Jazz continues to hold onto him. Making it into the washracks he turns on the cold solvent and watches with a smug smile as Jazz screams and jumps about a pede in the air. “About time you onlined. Your Sire said there was someone for you to meet.”

“What happened?” Jazz asks rubbing his helm as he turns off the cold solvent. “Oh wait, you jumped me.” 

Prowl laughs and stands to lean against the wall as Jazz gets towels for them to dry off. Though the sweet scent of Jazz’s Energon is still there, it’s not as potent as before. 

“I still don’t understand why your Energon turned a different scent or taste,” Prowl hands the damp towel back. 

“I’ll tell you later, it’s kind of embarrassing and I don’t want to have to deal with it before meeting this mech my Sire wants me to meet.”

“I can wait for an answer,” Prowl smiles and holds out his servo for Jazz. Jazz hesitantly takes it and leads Prowl out of the room and to the main sitting room to the left of the stairs. Jazz stops in the doorway when he sees a blue and purple mech sitting beside his Sire and both of them holding servos. 

“Sire?” Jazz says as he steps into the room, Prowl narrows his optics at the new mech. The faint hum of crystals interacting with his own hidden armor is too low for the outsider’s to hear but the other mech meets Prowl’s gaze evenly. The mech tilts his helm up slightly, a low inaudible growl escapes Prowl as the mech focuses his attention on Jazz. Prowl tightens his servo in Jazz’s and the silver mech glances up at him as they sit across from them. 

“Jazz I would like you to meet, Thunderfange,” Jazz’s Sire smiles at Jazz, other servo covering the blue and purple mech’s. 

“Triveil has told me a lot about you,” Thunderfange smiles and leans over to Jazz’s Sire. Prowl glances at Jazz’s Sire, hearing the mech’s designation for the first time. 

“What are you to my Sire?” Jazz asks, glancing between the two.

“Thunderfange and I are courting, we would like to bond someorn,” Triveil smiles. Jazz tenses and stands, sliding his servo out of Prowl’s and walking out of the room. Prowl continues to sit, looking at the mech in disguise as an outsider. Triveil whispers something to Thunderfange before getting up to follow Jazz. 

“I hope Jazz isn’t mad at his Sire for introducing us,” Thunderfange says and leans up. “You’re an awful long way from your clan, youngling. I hope you know what you’re dealing with here in the midst of the outsiders. That little silver mech your so desperately protective of is nothing more than an outsider who will stab you in the back once he learns what you are.”

“He already does,” Prowl frowns, then growls lightly. “What are you doing here?”

“Probably the same thing you are, try out an outsider, see if they’re worth anything,” Thunderfange smirks and leans back. “You know, they’re so into appearances, just find a form they like, accent it with colors they find pleasing and they’ll open their sparks to you. Have you bonded to that little hunter?”

“That is none of your business,” Prowl growls. “What do you want with his Sire?”

“I’m just looking for something to pass the time and if I do find love, that’s an added bonus,” Thungerfange smirks. 

“But Sire,” Jazz groans and sighs as he walks back into the room. He plops down on the couch beside Prowl, arms crossed and glaring at the mech. 

“I should be getting back to my village,” Prowl says, servo on Jazz’s thigh. “Would you mind walking with me to the gate?” 

“Sure,” Jazz huffs and stands and follows Prowl out of the Estate.

“Is there a back way into your home or your room?” Prowl asks pulling Jazz away from the house. Jazz glances up at him.

“Why, I thought you had to go back,” Jazz frowns.

“I don’t trust Thunderfange,” Prowl pulls Jazz closer to look as if they’re just prolonging their good-bye. 

“Why not?” Jazz asks, wrapping his arms around Prowl. 

“He’s . . . he’s not . . . I can’t tell you,” Prowl rests his chin on the silver mech’s helm. “Just be careful of him. I don’t trust him and if I don’t trust him then you should be wary because I doubt I could fight him if it came down to it.”

“Is he Praxian? Is that what you can’t tell me? Is there some code that doesn’t let you tell me? Is he here to hurt us? Is he coming for you because you’re here with me? Is he going to tell your Sire about us?”

“Yes, yes, yes, I don’t know, no, no,” Prowl says and Jazz looks up confused at the Praxian. “Just be careful around him.”

“Does this mean you’ll be staying here while he’s here?” Jazz perks up. “I mean, if you’re here he won’t do anything because you’d sucker punch him, right?”

“Jazz, whatever he is here for Praxians don’t jump into things, they have a plan, they have an end in sight. They stalk their prey or their interest before ever making contact. We are not like outsiders going in blindly to a place or situation.”

“You were watching me?” Jazz tilts his helm to look up at Prowl. Prowl nods as he traces Jazz’s sensory horns. “What’s our ending?”

“I would like to some orn bond to you,” Prowl smiles as he leans down to kiss Jazz. “So, the back way in?”

“Well, I doubt you’ll like it,” Jazz bites his lip. “It gets you in the house instead of the front door or the kitchen door.”

“Anything is better than for Thunderfange to know that I am still here, it will let him take down his guard.”

“It’s through the basement,” Jazz winces as Prowl stiffens. “The way we bring in Praxians.”

“Oh,” Prowl offlines his optics, taking vents to keep his spark pulsing steadily.

“Still better?” Jazz asks, trailing his digits over Prowl’s chest. 

“I suppose, are there any . . . Praxians in there?” Prowl asks, tanks churning at the thought of seeing any Praxians in there suffering.

“I don’t think so, let me check first,” Jazz says and leads Prowl to the back of the estate to the basement. A tunnel leads down to the door and Prowl follows Jazz down into the tunnel that sickens him as it is the same kind of tunnel leading to their home. Jazz puts up his servo for Prowl to stop and opens the door, Prowl follows him in. A narrow hallway leads him into the basement, a door to the right catches his attention and he test to see if it’s locked. Finding it unlock he opens it, plastic drapes from the ceiling a pede into the room and Prowl, against caution, steps into the room. He moves the plastic out of his path and comes into a large room. The air is colder than outside and the rest of the house. He closes his vents to conserve heat and his breath puffs out white before him. Tables line the walls, nothing is on them and there is a door on the opposite side of the room. He cautiously goes over to the door, opening the room beyond it is even colder. He steps in, glad that the texture of his disguise has hardened his crystal plating because this cold would hurt him. 

Farther into the room he sees something in a dark plastic bag hanging from the ceiling. A magnetic seal keeps the bag closed and Prowl separates the seal. An iced over Praxian stares into the frozen abyss he’s stuck in. Servos shake as Prowl backs away. Sensory panels rattle against his back and he notices how many plastic bags are lining the room. He turns around in the room, spark pulsing painfully as he realizes that Triveil isn’t just a hunter, he’s a manufacturer of Praxian crystals and armor. 

“No, no, no!” Prowl screams and walks up to the Praxian in the bag. He pulls apart the Praxian’s spark chamber to see the spark pulsing so slow behind the shield. Frozen Energon spikes surround the spark. When this Praxian unfroze the Energon would drown his spark and kill him. Prowl rips the shield off of the mech’s chest, that action makes the spark fade. This Praxian will not have to feel the pain of deactivation, he will not even online. The Praxian’s designation is etched on the shield along with his creator’s wish. “Blackflame.”

Prowl moves to the other Praxians to find them having the same fate. Removing their shields, he has a small pile in the middle of the room. Some of them are from his clan but the majority are not and he cries out as he thinks of all those families waiting for their loved ones to come back from a hunt that ended their life. Prowl gathers the shields and places them in a crate. If he couldn’t get them back to their families then he’d just have to let Jazz keep them. Did Jazz know about these rooms? Of course he would, he helps his Sire.

Prowl finds the next door and hesitates to go through it. This room is like the first, not fatally cold but cold enough to be uncomfortable. Weapons and parts of Praxians lay around on the tables. Some of the smaller parts of crystal armor have weapon arrows sticking out of them to varying degrees. Were they testing their weapons on the Praxians they’ve deactivated? 

The next room Prowl enters is larger than the others and about half the size of the house. How big was the basement? He thought it was just the cage and tables. The crystal shields hum in the crate as he sees berths upon berths in the room, stacked three high. Every one of them are filled with a Praxian frame. Each Praxian still has the weapon they were hit with in them. Many of them suffer from a weapon to their neck or chest above their shield. Prowl starts the task of removing their shields, still holding the hope of returning them to the families. It won’t be hard to return them once he has them out of the estate. Clans are normally very close and know everyone in it. The problem is just finding the right clan. All of these Praxians are already deactivated, either by the weapon or running out of Energon. He comes up to one mech, a mech he remembers from sparklinghood. Ironhide and Ratchet’s creation who ventured out into the surface. Armortide, his best friend. 

“Armortide,” Prowl cups the mech’s face, Energon tears fall onto the emotionless face. His spark pulses painfully at seeing the mech so still. Prowl rubs his chestplates from the pain. The same pain he feels when Jazz is in danger of deactivation. Prowl carefully opens the mech’s chestplates. He slides over the mech to look down at him. If Armortide was supposed to be his sparkmate, their shields would sing. No light comes from behind the spark shield. No chance in bonding to him. Prowl lets his spark chamber open slowly. Golden light shines over the crystals of the Praxian’s armor. Prowl slides his servos along the other’s back, leaning in and pulling the stilled frame closer. The glyph on his shield glows blue and Prowl cries out, holding the Praxian close so that their shields are touching. His cries drown out any other sounds and he doesn’t notice another’s presence at the doorway. Prowl presses a kiss against the other’s lips, chevron pressing against chevron. “I am so sorry. If I’d known . . . Armortide.”

“Prowl?” Jazz asks quietly, servos clasped at his chest as he watches Prowl. Prowl glances up with golden optics, the distraught look on his faceplates causes Jazz to flinch. “Was he a lover?”

“He would have been my bondmate,” Prowl cups the deactivated mech’s helm. Spark shield still exposed and glowing. “If we’d finish growing up together, we would have bonded.”

Prowl grasps the spark shield and breaks it off the mech’s frame. It glows with his until his spark chamber closes and he places it in the pocket of his armor. Prowl stays over Armortide’s frame, his own lacking the outsider disguise. 

“We can take him up to my room if you want,” Jazz says quietly. “It’ll save his frame from being used. Maybe you could take it back to his creators.”

“Ironhide and Ratchet would like that,” Prowl says sliding off the berth and picking up the smaller Praxian frame. Jazz offers to carry the obvious youngling Praxian while Prowl finishes gathering the spark shields. Jazz follows Prowl around the basement in silence, allowing him to explore as he was and hoping that Prowl would still love him after seeing everything. “You know that these Praxians are down here?”

“Yes,” Jazz says when Prowl breaks the silence after a couple of rooms with only tables and parts of Praxian armor. Prowl steps into a room full of berths, but unlike the room Armortide was in, this room has Praxians hooked up to monitors. None of them are online though. “They’re in stasis. They won’t ever online. Sire’s business partners are studying . . . Praxian healing. They’re wanting to be able to help us . . . outsiders heal faster.”

“It won’t work,” Prowl says quietly as he starts removing the spark shields. The Praxian sparks stay pulsing since they are stronger than the frozen. Prowl glances back at Jazz before deactivating the Praxians. Jazz’s visor darkens as he watches Prowl extinguish the sparks. 

The next room holds only the creatures made of crystal, like the Arcitheryum and various others. Prowl moves onto the next room filled with bins of shattered crystals, none Praxian made. The next is filled with crystal plants looking as though they are dying because of the lack of starlight. “They need starlight.”

“What?” Jazz asks shifting Armortide’s frame. 

“The crystal plants need starlight to bloom and stay healthy,” Prowl moves to another room as Jazz looks at the pitiful looking plants. He meets back up to Prowl who sis standing near a small frame. A sparkling frame, the spark shield sits on the counter beside the sparkling’s helm. “Do you harvest sparklings?”

“No, that’s just cruel, we don’t hurt sparklings.”

“Then this sparkling is from the invasion,” Prowl places his servo on the sparklings helm and notices his white servo. His frame quickly covers with black and purple and he glances back at Jazz staring at him. “What?”

“You . . . the way your frame changes so fast,” Jazz shakes his helm. “It’s just cool that you can be any bot you want.”

“It dampens my sensors,” Prowl says placing the small shield with the others before walking into the next room. It holds the sensory panels of the Praxians. Prowl glances over at Armortide to see his sensory panels are gone. He sets down the crate before taking out the shield and holding it with both servos as he moves around the room. The glyphs of his name brighten in their glow as he moves to the end of sensory panels. It glows brightly at the black and red panels that match Armortide’s armor. Prowl reaches out a servo, dropping the shield as his servo freezes on the clear crystal. He distantly hears Jazz calling both of his designations as he pictures Armortide smiling over at him in a small house in their tunnels. He watches as Armortide comes over to him, leans in to kiss him. He watches as his white servo reaches up to caress the panels before a small voice breaks in calling for its creators. Prowl glances to his side to see a red, black and white sparkling bouncing happily a pede or so away. 

“You chose the outsiders over me,” Armortide frowns as Prowl glances back at the now misty version of Armortide. “I had no choice but to come look for you. You killed me.”

Prowl jumps back and tumbles over Jazz who moved up to Prowl. Prowl stares up at the panels from his spot on the floor as another vision takes over. This time Armortide smiling down at him. His black, white and gold armor is wider than normal and he notices how Armortide kisses gently above his spark. 

“Prowl, snap out of it!” Jazz shakes him out of the vision and Prowl looks up at Jazz. Armortide lies still on the floor and the panels are now near their owners frame. “My Sire will be down here in a few kliks. We need to keep moving.”

“Right,” Prowl stands up and takes the shield and places it back in the pocket of his armor before turning to the crate. Not looking at Armortide as Jazz picks the Praxian up, he continues on through the basement. The next four small rooms contain data-pad shelves and nothing more than information and documents. The next room has pots with small seedling crystal trees, Prowl steps up to one of them and takes off a small piece of his armor to crush over the seedling, he feels Jazz looking over his shoulder. “They grow better when they have shards of crystals, normally of their parent’s leaves but any crystal would do.”

“How did you learn all this stuff?” Jazz asks, shifting Armortide again.

“We were taught by our creators or caretakers in the hope that some vorn we could reclaim Praxus,” Prowl moves on to the next room. It holds fossilized crystal creatures, like insects and small plants. Prowl trails his claws over the glass encasing the fossils. Some of the fossils he’s seen in the layers of metal and rock in their underground world. “You treasure these things?”

“Yeah, they go for loads of credits when Sire was excavating this land. That’s how we could get this big estate. Why do you ask?”

“These are common in the walls of our cavern,” Prowl says, “They mean nothing but old things which became extinct because they were not strong enough to live.”

“Are there others, ones not here?” Jazz asks, curiosity getting the better of him.

“There is a large one on the dark side of the cavern,” Prowl hums. “We left it alone because it was like art to us. It made the dull and lifeless cavern seem alive.”

“I wish I could see it,” Jazz says as they walk into the next room which is filled with bins of pieces of Praxian armor. Prowl moves to the chest armor to find that they don’t have any spark shields connected. “My Sire normally keeps the shields for me.”

Prowl moves on to the next room when the screams of the armor gets too much for him to handle. He stops in the doorway of the next room when he sees Praxian armor melted onto outsider armor. Jazz runs into his back and nearly falls on the floor trying to regain his balance with carrying Armortide. 

“What are you doing here?” Prowl walks up to one of the counters, picking up the crystal plated armor. He glances over at another mismatched Praxian crystal chest armor. “You’re harvesting our armor for your own!” 

“It’s tough armor,” Jazz says quietly, fearing that Prowl might take his anger out on the nearest outsider. Screams come from the next door and Jazz stiffens as Prowl glances at the door. Triveil’s voice comes from the other side and Prowl starts growling lightly, crouching in attack if someone comes through the door. “Prowl, my Sire won’t be happy if you’re down here. Let me go see what he’s up to and I’ll come back when it’s safe for you to keep going.”

“Fine,” Prowl says as Jazz hands Armortide’s frame over, Prowl holds the back of the deactivated youngling’s helm to his neck and an arm around his back as Jazz slips through the door to the scream filled room. A sinking feeling grips his tanks and he starts humming sparkling lullabies to Armortide which calms him down. Prowl moves over to one of the bins to see a set of armor that he recognizes from when he was a sparkling. One of a guard that was stationed at the post before Ratchet and Ironhide were assigned there. That was when they were beginning to become guards and they had a sparkling, the same mech he now holds. 

Prowl rests his helm against Armortide’s, the servo on the other’s helm goes down to trace around where his panels should be. Where did his panels go? Prowl glances around the room but doesn’t find them. He frowns, did Jazz leave them in one of the other rooms? Prowl starts to move back towards the other rooms when the door opens and Jazz slips back in. 

“Sire’s . . . uh . . . doing stuff, we can go now,” Jazz points to the door. 

“Where did Armortide’s panels go?” Prowl asks when Jazz takes the Praxian youngling back. 

“I put them in my subspace,” Jazz frowns. “Do you want to keep them in your subspace?”

“Subspace? What is a subspace?” Prowl frowns and looks at Jazz with blank optics. “Is that a storage of some kind?” 

“Uh . . . yeah, every mech has one,” Jazz continues to frown at Prowl. 

“Not me and no Praxian I know has a storage which no one can see,” Prowl points to the pocket in his armor. “This is my only storage, it’s only big enough for a data-pad.”

“I’m gonna warn you, you won’t like what’s through there,” Jazz winces as Prowl opens the door and steps in. The black and purple mech freezes a few pedes into the room at the sight of the large room filled with cages which are filled with live Praxians. Jazz steps into the room behind him and the door slams shut causing the onlined Praxians to glance over at them. Prowl’s purple optics dim at the sight of the Praxians so thin and dirt covered, some missing a sensory panel while others have none. He takes a hesitant step forward, his own sensory panels threatening to tremble and come out of their hidden slots. Getting to the middle of the large room, larger than any other room in the basement someone calls his name. 

“Prowl?” Prowl turns toward the voice. The black and orange mech trembles as Jazz steps up beside Prowl. “He’s one of them, he’s a killer.”

“Hallows?” Prowl steps closer to the cage, clawed servos grip the bars and Prowl smirks lightly. “I wonder how you got here? Would it have anything to do about catching me in the act of sneaking out to the surface? Because I’m sure Jazz would be more than happy to put an outsiders brand on you and let you return to the caverns. Then who would they punish for sneaking out to the surface?”

“Fine, let me out of here and I won’t say a word,” Hallows pleads. Prowl looks at the lock of the single mech cage before glancing at Jazz. 

“Can you let him out?” Prowl asks. “He’s part of my clan. He’s like family.”

“I can’t,” Jazz frowns. “He will attack me like any other Praxian that gets loose.”

“You cannot harm Jazz at all or I will leave you in here,” Prowl glares at the Praxian who he now realizes is missing his sensor panels. Jazz warily watches the Praxian as he unlocks the door and moves back behind Prowl. Hallows growls at the outsider before going to the ventilation shafts and climbing out. “Should I have told him we are in the middle of the village?”

“Nah, think he’ll get that once he steps outside,” Jazz laughs and closes the cage. “We should keep going, my Sire will be back in here shortly.”

Jazz leads Prowl to one of the doors on the other side of their entry. Prowl looks around the room full of bins filled with small crystals. A corner of the room is filled with bins full of spark shields. Prowl walks over to them and looks at the glyphs of the wishes of the mech’s creators and the mech’s designation.

“We should be safe in here, my sire only brings in the unusable parts of the crystals here for me to use,” Jazz walks into the next room as Prowl continues to look at the spark shields. Prowl touches the pocket in his armor with Armortide’s spark shield before moving towards the room Jazz is in when a bin catches his attention. The thin pliable leaves of a crystal tree are piled up in the bin marked with throw out. Prowl reaches down, gently sliding his servo under the fragile leaf before cupping his servo under it. With gentle touches, he bends the leaves into a small form, tearing with controlled skill at exactly the right places to fold and create something beautiful. Jazz steps in the room to see Prowl finish the sculpture. Cupped in Prowl’s servo is a figure of a paneled Praxian, the light reflects off the bluish silver gradient of the crystal, the tiny fractals mirror a Praxian armor in vivid detail. “That is beautiful.”

“Even beauty can be found in the most unusual places,” Prowl holds out his cupped servo for Jazz and Jazz carefully holds the Praxian. “When you fail to see the beauty in everything you fail to see the beauty in yourself.”

Prowl cups Jazz’s helm before leaning in and pressing a soft kiss then deepening the kiss as Jazz subspaces the Praxian. He backs Jazz to the wall, one clawed servo to the wall while the other holds Jazz’s helm. Fangs brush over Jazz’s lip and Prowl pulls back to attack the other’s neck with kisses. Moving down to his shoulder’s Jazz releases a pent up breath, halfway expecting Prowl to attack him in a more violent way for all the torture his kind is going through. Jazz’s moan is silenced when Prowl covers his mouth with his own, frames pressing against each other Jazz feels his frame heating like never before. Clawed servos move down to the smaller mech’s hips as Prowl bites at Jazz’s lips then neck then back to his lips. Jazz slides his legs around Prowl’s hips and Prowl presses him farther against the wall to keep him from falling as his glossa snakes out, Jazz flinches as Prowl’s glossa slides over his lips, pointed ridges makes small cuts over them. His glossa meets Prowl’s hesitantly to feel the sharp ridges along the other’s and pulls away slightly, not wanting to get cut. 

“I didn’t know you had a bladed glossa,” Jazz says pulling away enough as Prowl kisses his neck. 

“Only when a Praxian feels in a hunting mood,” Prowl’s optics gleam purple as he kisses Jazz again. 

“Are you hunting me?” Jazz trails his digits over Prowl’s shoulders. 

“Perhaps,” Prowl smirks as a noise comes from behind him. Jazz flinches as he looks up to see his Sire looking surprised at him. Prowl turns his helm and quickly jumps away. 

“Sire . . . I can explain,” Jazz glances at Prowl. “I just wanted to show Barricade my workshop.”

“Looked more than just showing,” Triveil smirks and sets a bin of crystals in the room. “I thought you were going back home, Barricade.”

“Jazz . . . wanted to show me his workshop before I left and asked if I could do anything with the crystal leaves,” Prowl motions to the bin holding the leaves. Jazz pulls out the Praxian figurine from his subspace to show his Sire. Prowl winces as Triveil takes the figurine from Jazz and looks over it. He expects the older outsider to smash it or break it. Instead the older outsider hands it back to Jazz and smiles at him. 

“You have a talent,” Triveil smiles and glances at Jazz for a moment before turning and leaving. Jazz sags against the wall and Prowl relaxes a bit. 

“We should get up to my room now,” Jazz says sliding his servo into Prowl’s and pulling him along. Prowl picks up Armortide’s frame before they pass and slip through the hallway. Jazz leads him into the lab where Triveil works, the older mech is so enraptured by his work he doesn’t notice them sneaking past. Jazz runs up the stairs to the first floor of the house. Peeking around the doorway, he motions for Prowl to come before Jazz runs to the doorway to the foyer and motions for Prowl to follow him up the stairs. Once in the safety of Jazz’s room does Prowl relax and sets Armortide in one of the chairs near the berth. Jazz grimaces as Prowl’s servo lingers on the other mech’s. “Couldn’t we . . . you know . . . kinda put him out of sight?”

“I plan to take him back with me when I leave to check in with the guards,” Prowl frowns at Jazz’s statement. “He can’t do anything, it’s just an empty frame.”

“But still, he creeps me out,” Jazz shudders. 

“Says the mech who knows there’s Praxians in the basement,” Prowl glares at Jazz before walking toward him and grabbing his helm. Fangs bite the outsider’s lips and Jazz gasps as Prowl picks him up and dumps him on the berth. Blue Energon glistens on Prowl’s lip and his bladed glossa snakes out of his mouth to lick at it. Jazz jumps as his fans kick on and Prowl smirks, the purple gleam in his optics brighten and he climbs on the berth, following the retreating silver and black mech. One clawed servo pins Jazz to the berth and he leans down to nip at the other’s neck, Jazz trails his digits over Prowl’s helm as the other kisses and nips at his neck. 

“Prowler,” Jazz moans as Prowl licks his audial fin before his fangs rake over it. Jazz tilts his helm away from the tingling sensation making Prowl laugh as he just moves with Jazz. “That tickles, please, stop.”

“Why?” Prowl tilts his helm before trailing small, light kisses along Jazz’s helm before kissing the mech’s lips. 

"Because,” Jazz pouts up at Prowl. 

 

Prowl onlines to the feeling of someone watching him. He glances around, no one besides Jazz is in the room and he’s in recharge in front of him. A low growls escapes him, a warning to anyone who can hear it. A low chuckle comes from the doorway, the door they had closed last orn. Prowl tightens his arms around Jazz’s frame, growls growing louder as the mech comes out of the shadows. The red and black Praxian steps into the room, red optics glowing deep as he holds Prowl’s gaze. The Praxian lunges for them, claws and fangs bared. 

 

Prowl jerks online causing his frame to clatter against Jazz’s. He glances at the door to see it closed, something trickles along his chestplates and looks down to see blue Energon covering Jazz’s frame, coming from the mech’s neck. 

“Jazz!” Prowl screams as he tries to make Jazz online. Jazz’s frame moves limply at Prowl’s shakes. “Jazz!”

 

“Prowler, Prowler come on, online,” Jazz’s voice cuts through the darkness and Prowl onlines, growls radiating from him, fangs bared and his claws flexed to attack. Jazz falls off the berth in an attempt to get away from the angry Praxian. Prowl jumps at the sound and glances over to where Jazz was and crawls over to the edge of the berth. 

“Jazz?” Prowl peeks over the edge to see Jazz lying on the floor rubbing his helm. 

“You were having a nightmare,” Jazz pouts up at Prowl.

“He . . . Thunderfange . . . deactivated you,” Prowl frowns and reaches down to help Jazz back on the berth. 

“Oh,” Jazz wraps his arms around Prowl’s waist and tucks his helm under the Praxian’s. “You’d protect me. I should get us some morning Energon.”

“I’ll come down with you,” Prowl says following Jazz off the berth, he hesitates at the doorway before running down the darkened stairs to catch up to Jazz. He slides his servo into Jazz’s as they reach the stairs. Triveil walks into the sitting room with his Energon and Jazz pulls Prowl to the kitchen where a maid glances at them and starts preparing their Energon. Jazz notices a plate of Energon treats and points it out to Prowl. Prowl smirks as he silently makes his way through the kitchen to the other side where the plate sits on the counter. The maid doesn’t once notice as Prowl picks up the plate and returns to Jazz’s side, Jazz subspaces the plate as the maid turns around to hand them their Energon. 

“You’re Sire is waiting to speak with you, Jazz,” the maid says. Jazz groans and walks out into the foyer.

“You should probably stay here,” Jazz says and leaves Prowl standing in the foyer. Prowl sips his Energon as he looks around the marble and gold room. Paintings line the walls and he moves over to look at them. He notices the artist’s name: Jazz. 

“He is a talented outsider,” the dark chuckle from his nightmare says. Prowl glances over his shoulder to see Thunderfange smirking. “It is a pity he is only an outsider.”

“There is more to him than just simply an outsider,” Prowl frowns and finishes his Energon. 

“I think we got off on the wrong pede the other orn,” Thunderfange says. “I can see the way you look at him, it’s the same way I find myself looking at Triveil. What do you say about starting over?”

“Alright,” Prowl nods and looks up at the older Praxian. 

“I just want to warn you about the dangers of pretending to be an outsider, I see that you are just out of your youngling frame. It wasn’t until a few vorns ago that I learned this ability but you seem to be sparked with it. My first time under the disguise of and outsider cost me part of my armor. I don’t want the same to happen to you. You should be careful.”

“I am careful and the dangers still pose a threat to you as well,” Prowl crosses his arms and glares at the Praxian. 

“I don’t think you realize what outsider you are dealing with here,” Thunderfange places his servos on Prowl’s shoulders. “This mech, Triveil, is this village’s main hunter. The hunter that will stop at nothing to destroy every last Praxian on the planet. Do you think he would care if his creation is in love with you? Do you think Jazz would save you? He’s no better than his Sire. Following in his Sire’s pede steps, he’ll be the next hunter of the village and do you want to help him deactivate your clan, your family.”

“Jazz doesn’t deactivate Praxians,” Prowl frowns as he glares up at the red optics of the other Praxian. 

“Not yet, but when he’s older he will not stop,” Thunderfange cups Prowl’s helm. “Nothing you plead will make him stop. It’s in his coding to kill us.”

“You cannot see the future, you have no right in saying what Jazz is and is not capable of doing,” Prowl pulls his helm out of Thunderfange’s grasp. “You don’t know him like I do.”

“Have you merged with the outsider,” Thunderfange looks disgusted at Prowl before Prowl growls and pushes away from Thunderfange. 

“What I do is none of your business,” Prowl growls and moves around the larger mech. 

“What would your creators say if they knew?” Thunderfange asks as Prowl climbs the stairs and glares down at the Praxian in disguise before running up the rest of the way and into Jazz’s room. Sensory panels clatter against his back and he climbs onto Armortide’s lap to curl up. He wraps his arms around the crystal frame, burying his face into the neck of the mech. 

“My creators wouldn’t allow me back home, yours would probably take pity on me since we were so good friends as sparklings and when you disappeared they seemed to adopt me as their own.” 

Prowl onlines as the star begins to set, he glances around the room to see Jazz silently painting another picture, this one of a crystal garden. Prowl remembers his creators telling him dark cycle stories of the gardens of Praxus. Never really seeing one, he had to imagine what they looked like. Jazz’s painting is nothing like what he imagined them. His creators told him of large and short crystals but in Jazz’s painting they are thin and tall. 

“Did you actually see the crystal gardens?” Prowl asks from his spot curled up on Armortide. 

“Yeah, when we first moved here,” Jazz says without looking at Prowl. Prowl moves off Armortide’s lap to walk over to Jazz, trailing his claws over Jazz’s shoulders. 

“You know you’ve never told me what makes you smell like sweet Energon,” Prowl says leaning down, Jazz’s Energon still smells sweet and Prowl restrains himself from biting the smaller mech’s neck. Jazz stiffens under Prowl’s servos and glances back at the black and purple mech. 

“It’s because . . . because . . . well,” Jazz’s frame heats and he looks away from Prowl before telling the rest as fast as he can. “It’s because my frame is flushing out all the old Energon and replacing it with new. It’s because I really like you and find you a possible bondmate. And it’s my frames way of saying I want to have your sparklings.”

“Could you say that any faster?” Prowl laughs and nips at Jazz’s chin. “Don’t you need to merge to have sparklings?”

“Yeah, for the sparklet to form,” Jazz relaxes in Prowl’s hug as the Praxian slides his servos around his waist. “My frame is actually forming a sparkling’s protoform now but if we don’t merge this decaorn then my frame will just use up the materials.”

“You’re creating our sparkling’s frame right now?” Prowl asks sliding his servo over Jazz’s abdominal plating. It’s warmer than the rest of his frame and his spark pulses hard in his chest to merge with this mech and have sparklings. Whether or not they bond, apparently they could create sparklings together. “How long until you stop forming our sparkling’s frame?” 

“Well, I started last orn and it normally runs about twenty orns. And it only happens a couple vorns, it only came sooner because I met you. If you wanted to we could merge, I wouldn’t be against that.”

“I don’t trust you enough to possibly be bonded to you yet,” Prowl whispers in Jazz’s audio. “But I will think about it. Whether you are my sparkmate or not, I love you and I know I cannot live without you as long as I am unbonded. If we are not sparkmates then we will never bond and I will love you and our sparkling no less unless I bond, which I probably will not. Bonded Praxians live longer than unbonded but all live longer than outsiders if not deactivated in hunts or being hunted.”

“If we don’t bond you’ll watch me deactivate?” Jazz pouts up at Prowl who nods slightly. “Would you move on and find another mech?”

“I would make sure our creations are safe. I would never bond with a Praxian, it would cause me to abandon our creations.”

“Maybe you should find another Praxian and forget about me,” Jazz looks down at Prowl’s claws resting on his abdomen. “Then you wouldn’t have to worry about finding your sparkmate.”

“You could be my sparkmate, that’s why I haven’t merged with you yet. I want to be able to trust you.”

“What will make you trust me again?” Jazz leans his helm back on Prowl’s shoulder. 

“I have no idea until you do something that makes me trust you,” Prowl kisses along Jazz’s jaw before pulling Jazz over to the pile of large pillows scattered over the floor in front of the thin screen. Jazz turns around to face Prowl as the Praxian lays down on the pillows. One clawed servo comes up to cup Jazz’s helm as the other slides down his back to the small dip in the middle of his back armor and hip armor.


	18. Chapter 18

Prowl onlines before the star rises and gently picks up the sleeping form of Jazz. Gently placing his lover on the berth before he moves to pick up Armortide and leave, he slips out of the Estate and heads to the caverns with Armortide in his arms. He comes to the guard post to see Ironhide walking up to take Ratchet’s place. He stays back as the guards share a kiss and a brief exchange of words in each other’s embrace. When Ratchet starts leaving Prowl makes a noise and both guards turn to him. 

“I found Armortide,” Prowl says, voice shaky as he walks into the light of the post. Ratchet cries out as the form of his creation appears in the light. Ironhide lays his servo on Ratchet’s shoulder as the red and white mech holds their creation forever frozen in his youngling frame. Ironhide trails a digit along the helm before looking at Prowl.

“Where was he?” Ironhide says, slight growl in his voice. 

“He was in the hunter’s estate,” Prowl glances down. “I managed to locate it and sneak in to see what they knew of Praxians.”

“Where is his spark shield?” Ratchet asks, Prowl glances up to see Ratchet cradling the mech and the spark chamber open. Prowl takes out the glowing spark shield and Ratchet’s ice blue optics flick up to Prowl’s dim golden optics. “He was your sparkmate.”

Ironhide wraps his arms around Prowl, holding the closest thing they have to their creation. “I am so sorry for your loss. If he hadn’t tried to prove himself to us you would have had your bonded already.”

“I . . . I would like to keep his spark shield . . . if it’s alright,” Prowl glances over at Ratchet’s whose final decision it is if he keeps it or not. 

“Come with me to our home and I will tell you my decision,” Ratchet holds out his free servo to Prowl. Ironhide presses his helm against Prowl’s chevron before releasing him. Prowl follows the red and white guard into the small home. Ratchet takes Armortide’s frame up to his room before coming back down the stairs to Prowl. Prowl holds the glowing spark shield out to Ratchet who takes it and Prowl feels his spark break as Ratchet holds it against his own chest. Normally a bonded keeps their deactivated bondmate’s spark shields but any other goes back to their carrier. “Prowl, will you lie on the berth.”

Prowl’s sensory panels flick but moves toward the guard's berthroom and waits for Ratchet to tell him how to lie. 

“You can lay on your front,” Ratchet says, voice a little distant as he looks down at the slightly glowing spark shield. Prowl bites his lip as he climbs on the berth and lies on his front, helm resting on crossed arms. He watches Ratchet from the corner of his optic as the guard climbs onto the berth behind him. Prowl tenses for a moment when Ratchet kneels over him. He feels the guard’s servos on his back, right between his sensory panels. His armor separates without his consent and he holds his vents when the air brushes over the back side of his spark chamber. Sensory panels twitch slightly and Prowl moves his helm so his forehelm rests on his arms. The hum of Armortide’s spark shield vibrates against the back of his spark chamber and warmth encases his spark chamber from his own spark shield resonating with Armortide’s. His armor closes around the spark shield and he feels Ratchet press his chevron against his back. Normally a bonded places their bonded’s shield in front of their own for better protection. Never before has someone put one against the back of a spark chamber. But in any case the deactivated mech’s carrier presses one last “kiss” to their fallen creation’s shield. 

Prowl glances over his shoulder to see blue Energon tears down Ratchet’s face and he turns around to wrap his arms around the guard’s waist, helm tucked under the mech’s chin. One of the guard's servos rest over his back between his sensory panels while the other rubs the edges of his sensory panels. 

“You two would have been happy together. You were so close to each other as sparklings. I couldn’t believe how close.”

“If you ever need me, I’m here,” Prowl glances up at Ratchet, wiping away the Energon from the guard’s faceplates. He presses his chevron against Ratchet’s.

“Just be careful, I couldn’t lose you to them,” Ratchet wraps his arms around Prowl, pulling him close. 

“I am careful,” Prowl whispers to Ratchet as he rubs the other’s back. “You don’t have to worry about me. I’ve found another Praxian living in the outsider’s village, he’s nice and he doesn’t have a clan. He’s from the northern Praxus, near Iacon.”

“He might be a sparkmate, if he has a spark shield, it should glow like Armortide’s before you merge,” Ratchet says leaning back to look at Prowl. “Most of the time the Elders don’t tell mechs that their shield glows, they want mechs to bond to their first sparkmate without the option of choosing and picking themselves. You’re a free spirit like Armortide, you should be able to choose and be happy with your choice.”

“Thank you for telling me,” Prowl smiles and wraps his arms around Ratchet’s neck before leaving the guards house to go to his own and make sure his creators don’t think he’s deactivated. The moment he opens the door Bluestreak latches onto him. 

“I thought you deactivated, you didn’t come home for a long time,” Bluestreak looks up at Prowl before checking over his frame for any wounds. 

“With your sparkmate?” Smokescreen asks, Prowl nods and Bluestreak glances over at his older brother. 

“Wait, you’ve met Prowl’s sparkmate?” Bluestreak glances up at Prowl with a frown. “Why haven’t I met him? What’s he like Smokey? Is he perfect for Prowlie?” 

Prowl sighs and rolls his optics at Bluestreak’s nickname for him. Smokescreen glances at Prowl before looking at Bluestreak. “He’s different from what I imagined. He’s not much of a hunter though.”

“And it’s for the best he does not hunt,” Prowl laughs as Bluestreak drags both of them into the sitting room. 

 

Prowl leaves once his brothers leave for their voluntary work while they stay at this cavern. He walks up to Ironhide’s post and Ironhide pulls him into a hug and tells him to be careful because now they consider him their creation. Prowl heads for the fountain, Barricade’s disguise covering him as he walks into the clearing to see Jazz humming away at the fountain. 

“I guess you took Armortide?” Jazz asks without looking up when Prowl steps into his side view. 

“Yes, his creators were grateful to have his frame back,” Prowl sits beside Jazz and watching him draw. “Thank you.”

“For what?” Jazz glances up at Prowl who looks down at his clasped servos. 

“For allowing me to take Armortide back home,” Prowl says. Jazz frowns and pulls out the sensory panels from his subspace.

“You forgot these,” Jazz holds them out to Prowl. Prowl’s optics brighten and he grabs them before running off into the woods. Prowl reaches Ironhide’s post with the sensory panels in grasp. 

“They kept his panels, I had to leave them because I couldn’t carry them and his frame back.”

“Thank you, Prowl,” Ironhide nods. “I will make sure Ratchet knows they are safe.”

Prowl quickly hugs the guard before running back to the fountain to see Jazz gathering up his data-pads and stylus. “Where are you going?”

“My Sire called me back for the celebration parade,” Jazz smiles and holds out his servo. “Come with me?” 

Prowl smiles and slides his servo into Jazz’s. “I’ve always seen the parade from the ridge but never so close. What exactly are you celebrating?”

“Oh, uh . . .” Jazz bites his lip and glances at the ground. 

“You can tell me,” Prowl whispers, kissing Jazz’s audial fin. “It’s the orn the outsider’s came and drove our kind into the caverns. I know what orn it is. We have our own celebration for those that we did not lose. We have crystals that we light for all those still in our family, the ones who deactivated then stay dark and if a vorn comes where one deactivates due to an outsider, we don’t light theirs.”

“I’m sorry,” Jazz glances up at Prowl. Prowl places his fist under Jazz’s chin and leans in to kiss him.

“It’s not your fault,” Prowl rubs his thumb over Jazz’s lips. “It was before I remember, I don’t even know what Praxus looked like before. I never knew my siblings who were lost. That pain is my creators, not mine. My pain is whatever comes from you and me.”

“Well, I don’t want to cause you pain,” Jazz smiles. Prowl slides his arm around Jazz’s shoulders as they walk into the village. Mechs gather on the sides of the streets and Jazz pulls Prowl faster to the Estate where chairs are set out at the gate. 

“Hey you two,” Triveil says smiling up at the two mechs. “They’ve delayed the parade, one of the floats is late and it’s this vorns main one. We have a joor or so until it starts.”

“I’ll join you later, I need to do something before the parade starts,” Prowl says after a glance towards Orion Pax’s shop. He kisses Jazz before turning to cross the street but continues on down towards the pier. He makes sure he’s out of view to the Estate before slipping down the alley way and doubling back to Orion’s shop. He finds the back door unlocked and slips in. “Orion?”

“Hi, Barricade,” Orion Pax smiles. “What can I do for you this orn?”

“I want to check something, you’re a good friend and you’re nice, you’re actually the only real friend I have other than the guards at my post,” Prowl winces. “I found a sparkmate but it was too late for bonding. I wanted . . . I wanted to see if you were possibly my sparkmate. I don’t want to bond . . . yet. Just in case things with Jazz doesn’t work out, I would like to know there is someone on the outside I could stay with. I don’t like the caverns much and I don’t want to be bound to them forever.”

“Barricade, I have a lover, he comes a few decaorn a vorn,” Orion Pax frowns. “He’s an outsider like Jazz is to you. We haven’t merged but—“

“I don’t want to bond, ever, unless it’s with Jazz,” Prowl says walking up to the mech. “I just need someone I could trust. If we are sparkmates you wouldn’t hurt me. If we’re not then I would have to go back to the caverns.”

“I don’t know of any other way to tell,” Orion Pax frowns. 

“Our spark shields would glow if we are sparkmates,” Prowl says as he opens his chest armor to reveal his spark shield. Orion Pax opens his own spark shield and Prowl moves closer to him. The glow doesn’t come until they are pressed together. Prowl’s helm tilts as Orion Pax’s. Lips meet and Prowl finds himself on the counter of the back room with Orion Pax kissing him and sliding his servos along his frame. Prowl moans as their crystal armor sings at being so close to their other half. Prowl wraps an arm around Orion Pax’s neck while his servo holds the blue helm to his as they kiss. Spark shields slowly lower and Prowl gasps when he feels a tendril of Orion Pax’s spark touch his. He commands his spark chamber to shut and that causes Orion Pax’s to shut. The red and blue mech pants above him, blue optics bright as he looks down at him. 

“Thank you for preventing that,” Orion Pax presses a kiss to Prowl’s lips before getting off the counter. Prowl sits on the counter looking at Orion Pax. 

“I’ve never . . . been with a Praxian,” Prowl’s vents heave as he cools himself. 

“Maybe when Jazz is away or something and Megatron is away, we could . . . share each other’s company.”

“I’d like that,” Prowl smiles and scoots to the edge of the counter to cup Orion’s helm and kiss him. “But . . . what if . . . what if I’m with Jazz and say your name?” 

“It’s not my first time having two lovers,” Orion Pax smirks. “I had two while in my clan, both weren’t sparkmates because they were guards and in my clan sensory paneled and guards couldn’t be sparkmates. When they found out they were ‘competing’ for me they found out they were each other’s sparkmates.”

“What kept them from knowing sooner?” Prowl asks and Orion Pax whispers the answer into Prowl’s audio. “Really, that’s it. Then I will find myself pinned under you.”

Orion Pax smiles and kisses Prowl deeply. “You should buy something for Jazz then you won’t have to sneak around as often.”

“I have no credits,” Prowl frowns as Orion Pax rests his servos on his hips. “I have no way of gaining credits.”

“Don’t worry about credits,” Orion Pax smiles and points to a small cubby. “I’ll keep your credits here, some mechs have tabs here that they prepay because they come here often. You could be one of those mechs, with a little motive on the side.”

“I should get back to Jazz,” Prowl looks up at the red and blue mech, noticing the small pained expression in the other’s optics. “Unless you need me more.”

“Megatron sent word that he’d be later this vorn,” Orion Pax sighs. “I don’t think I could last that long since I met someone I could trust to let my guard down.”

“I won’t let up in my disguise as Barricade,” Prowl frowns, not understanding what letting his guard down means. “I don’t feel that safe in the midst of the outsiders.”

“No I meant being close to someone,” Orion Pax smiles and holds out his servo for Prowl. 

“Oh,” Prowl frowns and follows Orion Pax into the home part of the shop. 

 

Prowl looks around the shop as he tries to figure out what to get Jazz. He doesn’t want to ask Orion Pax and make him online from recharge so he focuses on things that he likes. Maybe Jazz would like what he likes. He comes to a workbench where one could make their own sculpture and Prowl remembers the picture of Jazz’s Carrier holding him as a sparkling. He gathers the colors needed to recreate the image. Quickly shaping the crystals he finishes it in five pulses, something that looks like it would take kliks to make. Prowl leaves a note for Orion Pax telling him what he used and thanking him before he walks out the front door. Jazz spots him immediately and calls him over for the parade to start. Prowl sits beside Jazz, stealing a quick kiss before holding out his servos, one cupped over the other. “I made something for you.”

“Really,” Jazz smiles and picks Prowl’s servo off the other, he gasps and squeals when he sees the crystal figurine. He quickly subspaces it before tackling Prowl in a hug. 

“I’m glad you like it,” Prowl smiles and presses a soft kiss to Jazz’s cheek. “We should get back up to watch the parade.” 

“I love it,” Jazz says as he helps Prowl back up to his chair and sits on the Praxian in disguise's lap with the crystal figurine of his Carrier holding him cupped in his servos. Prowl presses soft kisses along Jazz’s helm as he glances up to see Orion Pax come out to watch the parade. He slides his servos down to Jazz’s hips as the first floats come into view down the street towards the pier. “Sire wants us to join him and Thunderfange for Energon after the parade.”

“I will have to leave for my own family’s celebration,” Prowl trails his claws along Jazz’s hip armor. Jazz squirms a bit on Prowl’s lap as those claws dip into the crevices of his armor. Jazz puts his servos on Prowl’s to stop the Praxian from making him overload in the public gathering. The Praxian slides one of his servos over Jazz’s abdomen as he kisses the smaller mech’s neck. “Do outsiders normally name their sparklings before they are sparked?”

“Sometimes, why?” Jazz asks as Prowl rests his chin on Jazz’s shoulder. 

“I just wondered what we would name our sparkling you’re carrying,” Prowl nips at Jazz’s audial fin causing the mech to tilt his helm away. 

“I like the name Ivory,” Jazz whispers as the floats continue to pass by. 

“It sounds like a good name,” Prowl smiles as he pulls Jazz closer. They whisper back and forth until the last float passes by and the dancers dance down the street. Music fills the air and Jazz jumps off Prowl’s lap. Puling the mech away from the chairs and sliding his servos onto the taller mech’s shoulders. Jazz sways in front of Prowl who glances around confused.

“Yer supposed to dance with me,” Jazz smiles and puts Prowl’s servos on his hip and eventually Prowl starts swaying with Jazz, following Jazz’s every move they dance faster until both are back to dancing slow and panting with smiles on their faces. 

“Are you kids ready to go to get some Energon?” Triveil asks as he stands beside Thunderfange. The older Praxian frowns at Prowl’s smile and complete trust in Jazz. 

“Yep,” Jazz chirps and bounces up to kiss Prowl before taking the Praxian’s servo. “You have got to try the sweetened creamed Energon. It’s amazing.”

Prowl follows Jazz to the small café, the same one where he saw Driftnight kiss Jazz and a painful pulse causes Prowl to grimace when he thinks about how it felt to see Jazz with another mech. They take their seat at a booth near the railing that overlooks the Sea of Light. Prowl slips his digits through Jazz’s as they sit there and wait for their Energon. The waiter brings out their Energon and Prowl takes a hesitant sip of the creamed Energon. The sharp mint flavor is nothing he’s ever tasted. It stays in his mouth even after the cooled Energon goes down his intake. “This is amazing.”

“I know,” Jazz giggles and sips his own creamed Energon. “Do you think we could go out on the beach before you have to leave?” 

“I must leave before the star sets,” Prowl says as he allows Jazz to pull him down to the beach. Jazz bends down and scoops up some of the metal shavings and tosses it toward Prowl. Prowl jumps away and grabs a servo full and tosses it at Jazz, hitting him in the chest. Jazz squeaks and hurriedly throws more. Prowl picks up a servo full before walking over to Jazz and opening his servo over the mech’s helm. The metal shavings cascade down his frame as the small silver mech pouts up at Prowl. Prowl laughs as he leans in to kiss Jazz. Jazz pulls Prowl down to the ground and Prowl starts kissing along the mech’s neck. 

Everything around them seems to disappear as Prowl stands over Jazz, servos holding the mech’s helm from the metal shavings. Only when the star turns the Sea of Light red does Prowl start to move away from lying near Jazz. 

“I must go now,” Prowl smiles, kissing Jazz before he leaves. He says his good-byes to Triveil and Thunderfange before walking out of the village. He walks down the tunnel, the quiet and complete dark tunnel. Only this orn is there no guards at the posts because the guards are participating in the celebration. Prowl takes a detour to the guards home and knocks on their door. Three crystal candles sit in the window sill, only two are lit. Ratchet opens the door.

“Shouldn’t you be with your family?” Ratchet frowns slightly as Ironhide comes up and slides his servos on the red and white shoulders. 

“I want to invite you to celebrate with us,” Prowl smiles at the guards. “I want you to come join us.”

“Thank you, Prowl,” Ratchet smiles and hugs Prowl as Ironhide follows them to Prowl’s home. Crystals line the side of the house but only five are lit. Five out of twenty crystals. Prowl opens the door and leads the two guards in, Smokescreen glances up at them as they walk into the sitting room. Prowl’s creators glance up and glance at Prowl with confused looks. 

“They learned their only creation deactivate,” Prowl whispers to his creators. “I was close to Armortide, they see me as a creation to them, so I didn’t want them to celebrate alone.”

“But they are not family,” Prowl’s creator frowns at Prowl.

“They would have been if Armortide didn’t deactivate,” Prowl frowns slightly, sensory panels dipping low on his back. “He was my sparkmate. His shield glowed with mine.”

“Oh, Prowl,” Prowl’s Sire pulls Prowl into a hug. Ratchet and Ironhide stay close to the edges of the room as Bluestreak brings in the Energon slices. He sets a slice out for everyone in the room before Prowl’s Sire starts a prayer to Primus. 

“Primus, we thank you for allowing us to gather here this orn to celebrate the memory of those we lost. We thank you for bringing two new members into our small family and we hope they stay safe in their duties to protect the others of this clan. We thank you for the Energon you provide for us to hunt. We ask that you keep our hunters safe during the hunt and keep our creations out of harm. And Primus, we ask that no harm come to any of your creations this orn, whether they are outsiders or Praxians or the various other creatures on the planet. Thank you Primus. Until all are one.”

“Until all are one,” the others say in unison. Prowl stands and offers each of the mechs in the room their Energon slice, a recreation of the youngest thirteen being the mediator. As the cycle goes on, Prowl falls into recharge as the older adults play games. Ratchet smiles lightly as Prowl recharges on him, sensory panels fluttering under the mech’s servos. Ironhide smiles at Ratchet as he plays games with Prowl’s creators and Smokescreen. Bluestreak starts falling into recharge on the floor beside his creators.


	19. Chapter 19

Prowl onlines on his berth, Bluestreak recharges on the berth on the floor. He stretches as he sits up, moving down to the lower level of the house Prowl notices everyone as left for their shift. He takes a cube of Energon into the sitting area to drink as he looks out the window, watching the mechs go on outside on the streets. Prowl casts a glance up at the stairs before dropping his Energon cube into the reuse bin and leaving the house to go to Jazz. The starlight shines through the crystal leaves of the forest, small rainbows glitter on the ground and reflect off his armor as it turns black and purple. He steps out into the clearing looking for Jazz to be sitting at the fountain. He frowns when the clearing is empty and starts on the trail to the village. Maybe Jazz was late? Maybe recharging late? His pace quickens as he remembers that Thunderfange was still with Triveil when he left. He comes to the gates of the Estate. The gate guard opens the gate for him and Prowl walks up to the door and hesitates knocking. Did outsiders knock? Did they do something else? The door opens to Triveil standing there. 

“Jazz went back to Polyhex,” Triveil says. Prowl flinches, did Jazz leave because he didn’t like him anymore. 

“Will he be back?” Prowl frowns.

“He’s just moving the rest of our things here,” Triveil smiles and moves to the side to allow Prowl to come into the estate. “Would you like to go out hunting with me in the mountains?” 

“I didn’t bring my weapons,” Prowl frowns, at least they would be well away from his clan in the hunt. 

“That is alright, we can go to the weapons vendor and you can pick out the weapon you’re most comfortable with,” Triveil smiles and goes into the sitting room, a few pulses pass and the mech comes back out with his Energon gun. Prowl follows the outsider out of the Estate gates and to the weapon vendor. The mech opens the door in the back before coming out to open the vendor gates for Triveil. “Go ahead, which ever weapon you like.”

Prowl looks over the weapons, from the most basic iron to the most complex crystal. He disregards the guns, they leave a loud sound, moving to the swords, axes and knifes, they would do little damage against a large predator. He moves to the crossbows and bows. Jazz’s crossbow is more complex than he could control which leaves the regular bows. As a sparkling he and other Praxians created bows out of crystal tree leaves gathered by the hunters, they all learned to use bows and arrows as a ranged weapon but most never really used weapons. They didn’t need to when they themselves were the only weapon they needed. Prowl holds his servo over the crystal bows, the crystals make a small hum when he passes his hidden crystal digits over them. One bow catches his attention, a blue and marble white bow. The arrows beside it are crafted from the hardest crystal there is, an Arcitheryum’s hide. 

“Is that the one you want?” Triveil asks, Prowl nods before stopping when he sees its two hundred credits.

“I didn’t bring any credits,” Prowl frowns and watches Triveil hand the mech a stick and the mech hands it back a short while later. 

“That’s alright, you are close to Jazz and I can tell you two love each other, you’ll be my creation when you two bond,” Triveil smiles and Prowl picks up the bow and the few arrows lying beside it. The mech hands Prowl a cylinder bag full of arrows. He slings it over his shoulder and ducks his helm under the strap. “I see you are a natural archer.”

“We used to make bows and arrows when I was a sparkling,” Prowl says slipping the bow over his arm and holding the extra arrows at his side. “We’d play hunter games around the town square with blunted arrows so we wouldn’t harm anyone.”

“Sounds like you grew up hunting,” Triveil smiles as they walk down the path to the fountain and takes the small trail up to the mountains. 

“Hunting is great deal in my village,” Prowl says. “It’s the way of life. Hunted or be hunted.”

“Jazz never really took to hunting, he always draws in his data-pad, I worry about him sometimes. His Carrier wasn’t much of a hunter and preferred to stay at home. Jazz takes after his Carrier so much. Which of your creators do you take after the most.”

“My Sire, I have his adventurous spark in me,” Prowl smiles as they reach the lower ridge of the mountains. “My Carrier always worries when I go out and would rather me stay at home. I’m the youngest in my family.”

“Sounds like Jazz’s Carrier,” Triveil laughs, a branch breaks in the distance, Prowl grabs his bow, draws an arrow and shoots even before Triveil raises his gun. The defeated cry of a crystal stag comes and the thud of it falling to the ground. “You are a good hunter.”

“You pick up a few things when all your life is hunting,” Prowl says as he lowers his bow and walks over to the stag. Trivel starts harvesting the stag when a small cry catches his attention. Prowl puts his servo on the gun and lowers it as a small stag stumbles into the area. Prowl steps around the larger stag and carefully approaches the sparkling. He feels Triveil watching him as he nears the small stag. He holds out his servo and the stag walks up to him without any fear, Triveil watches in amazement as the creature walks around Prowl. Prowl’s purple optics meet his optics and Prowl holds out a servo and the stag brushes its helm under it. “My people do not harm young creatures. I would ask that you do the same while I am hunting with you.”

“It looks completely unfazed around you,” Triveil says as he finishes with the larger stag and slowly walks up to Prowl, his weapon in his subspace to not scare the young stag. The stag grows nervous but Prowl kneels down and pets the stag as Triveil holds out his servo to touch the small crystal being. 

“He will eventually find another stag carrier who will adopt him,” Prowl says rubbing the smaller stag’s small horns starting to grow. 

“You have a way around creatures of the forest,” Triveil says once the young stag runs off. Prowl begins walking toward the mountains as Triveil watches the stag disappear. 

“That happens when you live surrounded by a forest,” Prowl says continuing up the path. 

As the star sets they make camp in one of the flat ridges of the mountain, Prowl takes the first guard shift while Triveil falls into recharge. Prowl listens to the chirps the crystal birds make, he mimics them and one lands on his knee. He raises his digit to pet the shimmering wings. So busy watching the crystal bird, he doesn’t notice the outsider is watching him. More crystal birds land around him, some jump up to his shoulders and peck at his helm. Prowl chirps at them and they chirp back. Triveil smiles as he watches the mech play with the birds. No wonder Jazz liked this mech. 

The star rises and Prowl turns his helm to watch Triveil online, the outsider cleans up the campsite and glances up at him. “You never onlined me to take over the guard shift.”

“I normally don’t need as much recharge as others,” Prowl says standing from his place and follows Triveil back down the path to the valley. A loud growl sounds and Prowl freezes in his steps, the Arcitheryum raises high above them and lands on its front paws, the ground shakes beneath their pedes. Triveil points his gun at the cyberbear, Prowl readies an arrow in his bow. The gun fires and he follows with shooting off the arrow. The cyberbear growls and Prowl shoots off a few more arrows as the cyberbear charges. Prowl pushes Triveil down the valley slope as the cyberbear pounces on him. Triveil knocks his helm against a tree while he tumbles down the slope. Prowl attacks the cyberbear, Energon covers his black and purple frame, the cyberbear’s claws rip through his crystal armor causing him to cry out. He protects his helm, turning to hide is face in the ground, the cyberbear’s claws rake over his hidden sensory panels. He cries out before baring his fangs and attacking the predator. He bites into the cyberbear’s hide, ripping it off as his bladed glossa tears into the sensitive wiring and Energon lines under the skin. The cyberbear falls to the side, panting, Energon rushes out of the wounds from the weapons and Praxian’s fangs and claw marks. Prowl coughs up Energon, pain in his side causes him to gasp and he tries to move toward the stream down the valley. He tumbles down the slope and slams into a tree. Darkness consumes him as the pain recedes. 

 

“Barricade,” Triveil says as he onlines with the pulsing pain in his helm. He glances around to see the black and purple frame of Barricade lying still against a tree, blue Energon covering nearly every inch of the mech’s frame. Triveil stumbles over to the downed mech and gathers him up in his arms, the black and purple armor isn’t like it was before the attack. Triveil dismisses it as results from the fight as he carries the mech to the stream to find out how much the mech is wounded. He carries the mech into the stream, letting the water run over the black and purple frame. Triveil pulls out a rag from his subspace to wipe off the dried Energon, and notices the long gashes in the mech’s frame. Energon pools in the deeper ones and Triveil starts to call the medics when the black and purple armor bleeds out of the mech’s frame. Triveil moves the mech into a sitting position as the dulled painted armor turns into shimmering and gleaming black and white crystals of a Praxian frame. He gasps as the mech he thought was just a normal mech changes into one of the Praxians. Long gashes run along the Praxian’s back and Triveil starts to wash the gashes when the sensory panels fold out. He gasps at the small details in the Praxian’s armor. 

None of the Praxians in the basement had these small etched designs along their frames. He notices the gashes on the Praxian’s front are completely healed and small lines like what he labeled designs replace them. 

He traces his digits over the angles of the Praxian’s shoulders and arms. He never does get over how elegant a Praxian’s armor can be. This unconscious one in his grasp can’t even defend itself if he wanted to deactivate it. All he had to do was slice the main Energon line. He pulls out his Energon dagger, the glow illuminates the Praxian’s white crystals in pink. He moves the Praxian so that he sits on his lap to keep a hold of the creature in case it does online. The Praxian’s helm falls to his shoulder and he glances down, seeing only the mech his creation is in love with. He frowns when he realizes that this Praxian can mimic them and wonder how many other Praxians are doing the same. He wonders why this Praxian would obviously risk his life to be with Jazz. What if this Praxian was there to deactivate him? Wouldn’t he have done it last dark cycle, or let the cyberbear deactivate him? This Praxian actually saved his life.

He looks at the Energon dagger still in his servo, bringing it up to the creat-mech’s Energon cables. The blade gets close enough that the cables start molding under the heat of it. 

The Praxian moans as the last of the gashes heal, gold optics online. 

 

Prowl onlines to someone holding him in the stream. The water trickles over his sensory panels and he hears the steady hum of the mech holding him. He glances up to see the grey and black frame of Jazz’s Sire. The glow of an Energon blade catches his attention. Prowl flinches and tries to get out of the mech’s hold. He falls into the water, vents sputtering as he pops his helm above the water. He glances back at Triveil who has his servos up, Energon blade out of sight, time to strike, why is he waiting?

“Barricade,” Triveil says keeping his servos up. “I won’t harm you. I have questions though.”

“You lie, you keep Praxians in the basement, you torture my kind,” Prowl growls, fangs bared and claws glinting in the starlight. 

“You love my creation, I consider you family,” Triveil says standing his ground. “That was before I knew you were a Praxian.”

“Has your view of me changed?” Prowl stalks closer, sensory panels raise high in intimidation. The outsider stumbles back onto the dry bank, the water drips from his sensory panels as he follows the mech out of the stream. 

“No, you saved me from the cyberbear,” Triveil says and glances down. “You could have deactivated me last dark cycle or let the cyberbear do it if you wanted me offline.”

“How do I know you don’t want to deactivate me?” Prowl asks, golden optics wary. “You had an Energon blade out, I can feel it’s lasting effect on my neck. You tried to kill me.”

“I would have done it before you onlined, you would not have fought,” Triveil frowns and glares at the Praxian. Prowl’s sensory panels droop and he glances down. “If I did hurt you that would just cause Jazz to hate me. He obviously loves you. After his Carrier deactivated, he never socialized like he once did. Until we moved here he didn’t have any friends. His first friend was Orion Pax then his friends grew and I always hoped he’d find the mech his spark wanted. Then you came, Barricade—“

“My designation is Prowl,” Prowl says as he steps closer to the mech, sensory panels tucking back into their hiding slots. His frame takes Barricade’s disguise again. “This is Barricade.“

“Can all Praxians do that?” Triveil asks holding out his servo to Prowl. Prowl shakes his helm, optics dim but still searching for the dagger. 

“Only older Praxians can, I’m the only youngest Praxian to have the ability,” Prowl says hesitantly taking the outsider’s servo. Purple optics glance up at the outsider’s to see only curiosity in them. 

“Does Jazz know you’re Praxian?” Triveil asks. Prowl nods slightly.

“The first orn we met, I had no disguise other than changing my frame colors to match my surroundings.”

“He never let on to anything,” Triveil frowns. 

“He was afraid you’d . . . deactivate me,” Prowl sighs as Triveil leads him to a rock to sit. “I was afraid Jazz would turn on me like one of my clan had their lover turn on them.”

“I take it Praxians stay in their clans then, why did you leave?” 

“I didn’t, I sneak out to come to the surface, now I sneak out to be with Jazz.”

“You’re not what I expected a Praxian to be, you act just like any other mech,” Triveil frowns as he looks at the Praxian in disguise. All those other Praxians, were they like Prowl?

“We are mechs, the outsiders labeled us animals because we have fangs and claws,” Prowl growls. “We are no different in spark.”

“Have you merged with Jazz?”

“No,” Prowl glances away. “If a Praxian merges with a mech and they are their sparkmate, they bond immediately. I don’t want to rush Jazz into something if he is my sparkmate. Praxians only bond once in their life. I couldn’t stand it if Jazz decided he made a mistake.”

“We should go back to the village, if you’re fully recovered,” Triveil says looking over Prowl’s frame for any more injuries. Prowl nods and hesitantly steps beside the outsider. Triveil takes his servo and smiles at him. “You’re already like a creation to me.”

“Thanks,” Prowl glances away. Walking back to the village allows Prowl to study the outsider more and come to the conclusion that he only wants to protect Jazz from beings that would harm him. The outsider considers him family so he will not be hurt by this outsider. “When Jazz started going to the fountain, he was never in any danger. I was always watching him, even after I left his side. I was in the tree line watching over him.”

“Thank you,” Trivel puts his arm around Prowl’s shoulder for a hug. They reach the estate gates and Prowl glances over his shoulder to Orion’s shop. 

“I think I’ll go over to Orion’s shop and see if I can make something for Jazz for when he gets back,” Prowl says. 

“Is it a Praxian thing or just you where you create things from crystals,” Triveil asks.

“Every Praxian can feel the hum of a crystal, the hum is its song, its life,” Prowl says and pulls a crystal leaf from his pocket in his armor. He holds the leaf in his servo. “Praxians can ask a crystal to bend to their wants. It’s like asking the crystal to help.”

Triveil watches as Prowl forms a femme frame with the crystal. The crystal changes colors in parts of the figurine and Prowl holds out the femme, Jazz’s Carrier, to Triveil. Prowl smiles as Triveil takes the figurine with awe and crosses the street in silence. The door chimes and Orion glances up at Prowl. 

“Jazz didn’t come in this morning,” Orion Pax frowns as Prowl walks over to him. “He’s not ill is he?” 

“No, he’s in Polyhex bringing their stuff over,” Prowl says as he leans in to kiss the red and blue mech. Orion Pax wirelessly locks the door and changes the sign to closed as he leads Prowl to the berth room. The berthroom is filled with small crystals glowing around the edges of the room. Blue servos slide down to his hips as he turns to face the taller mech, he runs into the berth and falls back on the plush surface, Orion Pax stands over him, kissing down his neck to his chest. Prowl arches as Orion Pax kisses over his abdomen. He grabs the other’s chin, pulling him back up to kiss. Orion Pax follows as Prowl moves back on the berth, the crystal chandelier glows as the two Praxians armor sings and interact with those around them.


	20. Chapter 20

“You are beautiful,” Orion Pax smiles down as he trails his claws over Prowl’s helm, golden optics shimmer up at him. Prowl pulls the blue helm down for a drawn out kiss. “We could have been bondmates if we’d never met our lovers.”

“I would have bonded to Armortide, though,” Prowl leans into Orion Pax’s embrace, tracing the seams of his chestplates. “I should see if Jazz is back yet, I wouldn’t think it would take more than two orns to move their things back.”

“No, Polyhex isn’t that far away,” Orion Pax smiles before letting Prowl go. He follows Prowl into the shop. “Wait.”

Prowl turns around to see Orion Pax with his spark shield bared, Prowl smiles and slides his arm around Orion Pax’s shoulder, servo sliding down the other’s back, between where his wings would be while his other servo cups the back of the blue helm. Their kiss deepens as Prowl bares his spark shield. The glow between their shields brightens as the chime rings. Prowl, too caught up in the kiss, doesn’t see the silver and black Polyhexan’s spark broken face until they separate for air. Prowl glances over at Jazz, he feels Orion Pax press a kiss to his helm before the painful pulses follow and he tears himself away from Orion Pax to go to Jazz. 

“You’re sparkmates,” Jazz cries and turns to the door, he shoves it open, the small bell breaks and falls to the floor shattering. Prowl runs after Jazz, the bell crushing under his pedes and Orion Pax looks stunned at the door. 

“Jazz!” Prowl yells as he runs across the street. He reaches the gates and slips past them. He grabs Jazz’s arm and plants a kiss on the other’s lips. They fall to the ground from the force of it and Prowl wraps his arms around Jazz squirming under him. “Jazz, I didn’t bond with him because I love you. He already has a lover. I . . .”

“You cheated on me!” Jazz screams and punches Prowl in the face. Prowl flinches back and holds his servo over his nose. Triveil opens the door and grabs Jazz’s wrist and glances at Prowl sitting on the ground covering his nose. 

“Jazz, what did you do?” Triveil asks. 

“He cheated on me, I don’t ever want to see him again,” Jazz screams as he tries to get his wrist out of his Sire’s grip. 

“Barricade, come in, I’ll see what I can do about your nose. Jazz behave.”

“Whatever, let me go,” Jazz runs up the stairs when his Sire lets him leave. Prowl walks into the estate with his servo over his nose. Triveil leads him into the small washracks upstairs. 

“Did you cheat on him?” Triveil asks. Prowl’s shoulders slump as Triveil wipes off the Energon from his face. 

“In my clan it is acceptable to have multiple partners until you find your sparkmate. Jazz walked in on Or—walked in on me sharing a moment with a sparkmate. I didn’t bond with him because I love Jazz. He has a lover as well and didn’t want to bond anyway. I . . . I just wanted to see what it was like to be with another Praxian. My spark only wants Jazz. I figured that out when he saw me.”

“He’ll understand,” Triveil pushes Prowl’s chin up with his fist. “He loves you, this won’t hurt your relationship as much as keeping it from him. He wanted to show you the albums of his sparkling years. He found them at the old house and brought them back.”

“What if he doesn’t,” Prowl asks, purple optics dimming at Triveil. “I won’t be . . . I will be just another . . .”

“Prowl,” Triveil cups Prowl’s face. “Even if Jazz does not love you, you are the closest mech I have to a creation who likes hunting. I am a hunter, to hunt alone is not very smart. Go up there and tell him what you told me about your reason.”

Prowl nods and leaves the washracks and climbs the stairs to Jazz’s room. The door is unlocked and Jazz lies on the berth curled up with a large pillow. “Jazz?”

“I don’t want to talk to you or see you, Barricade,” Jazz mumbles into the pillow. Prowl climbs on the berth behind the smaller mech. 

“Jazz,” Prowl says trailing his digits over Jazz’s side. “I . . . just wanted to know what it felt like to be with a Praxian sparkmate before I . . . before I merged with you and we had a sparkling. I was never going to bond with Orion. He has a lover that he loves as much as I love you. Jazz . . . please, I’ll be yours from now on. I promise.”

“Was he what you expected?” Jazz asks shifting a little bit, light under his visor moves toward Prowl. 

“I didn’t know what I expected because I’ve never been with a Praxian. Jazz you’ve always had my spark. I wanted to make sure nothing could stand in our way. We’re having a sparkling together, I wanted to know I could raise him or her with you without wondering what if.”

“Well, we’re not having a sparkling yet,” Jazz frowns but turns to curl up in Prowl’s arms. “You haven’t sparked me yet.”

“I will though, when I trust you enough.”

“When will that be?” Jaz whines and looks up at Prowl. His digits run over Prowl’s nose. “I didn’t hurt you that much did I?”

“Not any more than Bluestreak’s tackling hugs,” Prowl smiles and presses a kiss to Jazz’s lips. “Your Sire said something about showing me sparkling pictures of you?”

“Oh!” Jazz jumps off the berth and grabs a two screened data-pad that folds in half. He jumps back on the berth and nestles in front of Prowl. They flip through the collections of pictures, Prowl eventually puling Jazz to lay halfway on him while he rests his chin on the smaller mech’s shoulder. 

“Our sparklings will be adorable,” Prowl smiles pressing a kiss on the top of the silver helm. 

“Sparklings?” Jazz glances up at Prowl. 

“If we bond, there is a high possibility I will carry a sparkling,” Prowl hums and trails his claws along Jazz’s shoulder. 

“What did you look like as a sparkling?” Jazz offlines the data-pad and sets it on the edge of the berth. 

“I wouldn’t know, possibly a smaller version of what I am now,” Prowl presses light kisses along Jazz’s jaw. “Praxians don’t keep pictures. We don’t even have mirrors. The only time I’ve seen my reflection growing up is when I visit the fountain.”

“Wow, don’t mind much of appearances do ya?” Jazz trails his digits over Prowl’s chest before looking up at the purple optics. 

“We don’t. Our sparks pick the mech not our optics.”

“I still can’t believe you made that figurine,” Jazz points to the figurine sitting on the window sill. “It’s so beautiful. Could you teach me how to do that?”

“Do you have any of the leaves in your room?” Prowl asks, Jazz shakes his helm before jumping off the berth. 

“I can bring some up,” Jazz runs down the stairs. Prowl smiles slightly and scoots up on the berth to sit against the pillows. Firesky jumps up on the berth and curls up at Prowl’s side, helm lying on his thigh. Jazz bounces back into the room with a box of crystal leaves. “Back!”

Prowl smiles as he takes the box and sets it on the berth. Jazz climbs onto Prowl’s lap to curl up on the Praxian’s lap. 

“Okay, teach me,” Jazz settles down on the mech’s lap. Prowl reaches and grabs two leaves, giving one to Jazz and laying the other beside him. He puts his servo on Jazz’s, digits sliding against them. Slowly he helps Jazz mold the leaf into a turbofox. Jazz holds it in his palm of his servo. Prowl trails his claw along the mane of the turbox which turns orange and red under his touch. “Wow.”

“You can try now,” Prowl holds out the leaf to Jazz for him to try. Jazz slowly forms the leaf to look like the turbofox. He frowns as he looks at the thing that doesn’t really look like the turbofox but kind of does. 

“It looks bloated,” Jazz frowns as he holds the puffed out turbofox up for Prowl to see. 

“With time you’ll get better,” Prowl presses a light kiss to Jazz’s neck. Servos coming to rest over Jazz’s abdomen as Jazz grabs another leaf to try.

 

Triveil walks up the stairs to his creation’s room, the door is partially open and the other side is quiet. He opens the door the rest of the way to see Jazz curled up in Prowl’s arms. He notices how the Praxian holds the back of Jazz’s helm and the silver mech’s back. The Praxian’s chin rests on top of Jazz’s helm which is tucked under Prowl’s helm. He steps into the room as quietly as he can. He sees the shimmering crystal figurines on the berth, most of them are obviously not made by the Praxian. He picks one of the crystals up and turns it over in his servos, the form looks like a cyberbear. Another crystal figurine looks similar to a bird lies on the berth, the wings are a little misshapen though. He freezes when Prowl moves, fear grips his spark as he wonders what the Praxian will do if he onlines to find him so close. He watches as the Praxian’s optics stay offline, his helm tips down so Jazz’s forehelm rests against his nasal ridge. The servo on Jazz’s back slides down to the side of Jazz’s abdomen. His spark pulses at the sight, one simple gesture he himself has done when Jazz’s Carrier was carrying Jazz.

 

Prowl onlines to the sweetened scent of Energon so close to him. Another scent comes to him, the scent of a hunter. Growls come slowly and quietly as his processor finally onlines and he onlines his optics to find the room empty of any hunters. He carefully pulls himself away from Jazz, picking up Firesky and placing the turbofox within Jazz’s grasp. He smiles when Jazz snuggles up to the warmth. Leaving silently, he follows the scent of the hunter down the stairs; the smell is unlike any other smell. It’s of processed Energon and dried lingering Praxian Energon. He follows the scent to the base of the stairs where it turns into the sitting room. Spark racing, he turns the corner to see Triveil sitting in the starlight reading a data-pad. “Were you in Jazz’s room a moment ago?”

Triveil glances up, the data-pad is set down on the table as the outsider pats the cushion beside him. “I was, I normally check on Jazz when he has company over.”

“Oh,” Prowl frowns, glancing down as he sits beside the hunter. “I was unaware Jazz had that kind of company before.”

“I didn’t mean the company you’re keeping,” Triveil laughs and lays his servo over Prowl’s black one. The Praxian flinches at the touch but relaxes as Triveil tells him about the mechs and femmes Jazz used to bring home. “I’m glad he found you. I saw that you put your servo on his abdomen, should I be expecting grandcreations?”

Prowl glances up at Triveil with bright optics, “I . . . . we haven’t . . . I don’t want to bond with him too soon. I still don’t trust the outsiders enough.”

“You don’t trust me,” Triveil frowns.

“I trust you enough to not hurt Jazz, it’s Jazz that I don’t trust. He lied to me . . . and I lied to him.”

“If it’s any help, Jazz finally allowed me to sell our old house. He never wanted me to because he never expected to stay here for very long. He cares for you and like Firesky, I am sure he’s never going to betray you.”

“One of my clan fell in love with and outsider and he ended up deactivated . . . my creators don’t even know I’m on the surface.

“I’m sure they wouldn’t mind if they knew you were with someone you cared for.”

“I should have found a Praxian mate, not an outsider.”


	21. Chapter 21

Prowl hums to himself as he follows the hunting party into the dense forest on the opposite side of the mountains. Two off duty guards accompany them, one leading and one making sure everyone is staying in the group. 

“You aren’t venturing away from the group,” Ratchet comes up to walk beside the younger Praxian. “In all the time I’ve known you, you’ve never stayed with the group. What happened?”

“Nothing bad,” Prowl smiles up at the guard. “Everything is almost perfect.”

“You’ve found a sparkmate,” Ratchet smiles and pulls Prowl into a hug. “Any chance you’d tell me his designation?”

“Actually, I found two and they are not of our clan,” Prowl continues to smile. “I’m really close to one and I hope to bond with him in a decaorn.”

“I take it they live in a clan nearby. Mountain side or forest side?”

“Mountain side,” Prowl thinks over it, it’s a good enough direction without saying exactly.

“Designations?”

“Well the one I’m not really close to is named Orion Pax and the other I want to bond with is named Jazz. Orion is a crystal sculptor and Jazz is an artist.”

“What makes Jazz so special,” Ratchet asks as they follow the group down a somewhat steep slope. 

“He’s . . . so unlike what I thought a sparkmate would be,” Prowl glances up at Ratchet. 

“Does this mean you’d be staying with their clan or would Jazz come to ours?” Ratchet says, a hint of a frown on his face at the thought of losing another mech who he considers a creation. 

“I . . . I would like him to come to our clan . . . but . . . his creator-s are very protective of him. He’s their only creation. I wouldn’t want him to have to decide before he was ready.”

“I’m sure we could find a place for them to live in our clan,” Ratchet says as the other guard signals him to come. Prowl watches as Ratchet leaves before slipping away from the group and explore on his own. He comes to a small clearing with a small tree in the center of it. Small chirps come from a trap hanging from the tree. He cautiously approaches the tree, within the rusting iron cage is a multi-color crystalline Cyberflutter. Prowl lifts the trap door and the bird hops out to fly away but one of its wings are broken and it starts to tumble down to the hard metal ground. Prowl catches the crystal hummingbird and holds it close to his spark. 

“It’ll be alright, little one,” Prowl says and moves back to the crystal tree line. He picks a crystal leaf from a tree and sets the bird on the nearby rock before molding a small wing cast from the leaf. The Cyberflutter trills as it watches Prowl, it hops away slightly when Prowl tries to put the cast on the bird. “I won’t hurt you, This will help your wing heal.”

The Cyberflutter lets Prowl place the cast on its wing and tries to flap its wings but only gets off the rock a few digits. 

“Here, let me help you,” Prowl cups his servo and the bird hops up and Prowl places the bird on his shoulder. The Cyberflutter chirps and pecks its beak against Prowl’s helm. Prowl laughs quietly and runs his digit along the birds back. “Let’s go exploring.”

The Cyberflutter chirps and nestles down near Prowl’s neck, chirping every few pedes as they make their way through the forest. Something sweet catches his attention and he follows it to a small village, the smell comes from the closest cottage. Prowl slips behind a tree when a mech comes out of the cottage. He motions for the bird to be quiet and watches as the mech with crystal armor sets a tray of Energon treats out on the table. Cubes of Energon glow at five places around the table. Prowl slips to the table when the mech turns back to go in the cottage. He looks over the treats when the sound of the door opens and he dives under the table, armor mimicking the surroundings and he turns nearly invisible under the table. Four other mechs walk out and start to sit at the table, the crystal armor hums louder and the mechs start looking around. Prowl stills when one of the mechs looks under the table and look right at him, his optics shine bright behind the grayed visor covering them.

The mech’s servo reaches out to him, Praxian claws glint in the starlight and Prowl sighs in relief and crawls out from under the table and loses his hidden disguise. The other mechs optics are bright as he appears before them. 

“What brings you here?” the mech asks standing from kneeling under the table. 

“I was exploring,” Prowl says keeping a watchful optic on his surroundings. “What is this place?”

“We call it NeoPrax, it’s a new Praxus well away from others who wish to do us harm,” the mech says as another goes into the cottage. A pulse later he comes back with another cube and sets it at an empty place on the table. “Come, join us for mid-orn Energon, we would be honored to hear of your adventures and explorations.”

“I haven’t been very far from my home but I’ve been to the mountains and the Sea of Light,” Prowl says and sits at the table, though something in his spark pulses to not trust these mechs, he tells them of his adventures in general detail as they start drinking their Energon. He holds the cube of Energon they gave him as the feeling starts rising. The others finish their Energon as he finishes his stories. “Maybe you could help me explore more, I’ve never seen a Praxian village above ground before. Would you mind showing me around?”

“It would be our honor to,” the mech smiles and motions for Prowl to follow, Prowl takes his cube, it would be rude to let the Energon go to waste but yet something in his spark tells him not to drink it. The feeling is similar to seeing Jazz in danger but he knows Jazz is safely in the outsider village, surrounded by a fence and living with one of the lead hunters in Praxus. He follows the blue and green Praxian, watching how his armor reflects in the light. Something about the slight dulled color makes his tanks churn and he almost drinks the Energon to settle them. He notices that the Cyberflutter is in the crook of where his armor meets his neck, peeking out just slightly to see where they are going. He bites his glossa as he learns about this village, most of the buildings, though they have crystal surfaces, don’t seem like they would be an actual Praxian village. He forces a smile on his face when the mech turns to look at him. “Do you not like the Energon? We could find you some to your liking.”

“I . . . I guess I forgot all about it, I tend to get caught up in exploring and things,” Prowl lies and raises the Energon cube to his lips. The Cyberflutter pecks lightly at his armor and the Energon doesn’t smell any different than any other. Prowl takes a sip before drinking about half of it. “I did just refuel though, perhaps I could finish it later?” 

The mech smiles and takes the cube, the cube disappears behind the mech and the churning, sickening feeling comes before his processor feels as if it’s floating in the air. He stumbles backward, falling on his aft as the mechs circle around him. Where did all these mechs come from? Were they there all the time? Why would Praxians give him tainted Energon? Unless . . . unless these mechs are not Praxians and they are outsiders, which would explain how the cube disappeared. Someone grabs Prowl’s arm and he growls, lashing fangs and claws out, warm Energon splatters on his frame as his gold optics turn molten. Through blurry vision he sees some of the crystal armor fall off the mech and the mech’s regular armor is gray. He turns to another approaching mech with claws out and digs them into the mech’s crystal protected chest. Some mechs start to come closer with crystal daggers but others turn away and leave the fight only to come back with ranged weapons. 

With every mech he takes down, two more replace him, pain stabs his frame as arrows and daggers and swords cut into his armor. His black and white frame is covered in blue Energon by the time he breaks through the mechs and starts attacking the ones standing farther back. The outsider’s screams slowly fade out and Prowl’s vision darkens as he stumbles out of the small village trap. He collapses to the ground on his knees, claws digging into the metal ground he cannot feel as his frame loses feeling. Everything silences around him and he doesn’t even feel himself falling to the hard metal ground. 

Prowl comes back online to the feeling of someone running a rag over his armor, he onlines his optics slightly to see the silver mech who helped him before. The mech glances down at him, optics, the color of gold, no, blue, the color of sparks shine down at him and he hears the strong pulse of the other mech’s spark. Thousands of sparks pulsing as one is what the mech’s spark sounds like, so strong and so full of life. The mech brings the rag back up to clean his chevron, thirteen glyphs line the mech’s arm, each glowing a different color and shimmering like they are their own spark. The last one catches his optics, the glyph reminds him of Orion Pax’s designation glyph. 

“Who . . .” Prowl starts to ask before coughing on Energon. The mech rests his long silver digit servo over his mouth and the drowning stops immediately. “Who are you?”

“You do not need to fear me, my creation,” the mech smiles, the expression brightens the surroundings and Prowl notices it’s dark cycle. 

“Where am I?” Prowl tries to sit up but the mech keeps a firm hold on his frame. “I need . . . I need to get back to my hunting group. They’ll worry about me.”

“One of your guardians are coming, I have alerted him of your location,” the mech smiles and presses a kiss on his chevron. 

“Who are you?” Prowl asks, the mech stands a few pedes away now. How did that mech get so far away? He tries sitting up but something keeps him down.

“Why Prowl, I am your creator,” the mech smiles before disappearing in to the darkness. 

“Come back,” Prowl calls out, reaching a servo out to where the mech disappears. 

“Prowl!” the red and white guard kneels down beside him, looking him over before cradling him to his frame. Prowl continues to look at the spot the silver mech vanished. 

“There was a mech,” Prowl says holding onto Ratchet. “He . . . he helped me twice. He said . . . he said he was my creator . . . but he doesn’t look like my creators.”

“Prowl,” Ratchet frowns down at the black and white Praxian. “The mech you saw . . . he’s Primus.”

“Why would he help me?” Prowl frowns and glances up at the red and white mech. 

“Because you are special,” Ratchet smiles and picks Prowl up to carry him back to the group. “You could save Praxians because you think differently about the world. I know you’ve found a mech in the outsiders. If he’s Orion or if he’s Jazz I do not know, but one of them must be an outsider and if it is Jazz since you are so close to him, I hope the two of you can change Cybertron’s view of us.”

“You aren’t mad I’m sneaking out to see an outsider?” Prowl bites his lip as they make their way through the dark and dense forest. 

“Love does not care about frame types, or where a mech was created or what a mech looks like. As long as you are cautious I will not tell anyone your secret.”

“Not even Ironhide?” Prowl frowns. 

“Except him,” Ratchet sets Prowl down on the ground so he can walk the few pedes to their camp. 

“Thank you, Ratchet,” Prowl hugs the guard before following him into the camp.


	22. Chapter 22

Prowl smiles as he looks down at Orion Pax recharging beside him. He presses a soft kiss to the mech’s blue helm before slipping off the berth to go into the workshop of the crystal shop. He picks up some wire and glances over his shoulder, an idea forming in his processor. He smiles before setting the wire down and leaving out the back door of the crystal shop. He heads down towards the pier and comes to a stop at the cliff. The beach is empty in the early joors of the orn and he kneels down to the edge to peer over it. He spots the sapphire, onyx and frosted crystal still lodged in the side of the metal cliff. He glances over to see a metal rock and tosses it down into the chasm. The rock keeps falling until it disappears in the darkness. Prowl bites his lip and starts to climb down the vertical cliff side. Claws dig into the rock and he slowly makes his way down. He takes deep vents as he reaches the crystal, one shaky servo grabs the part of the crystal sticking out. He touches the crystal, spark full of love for Jazz and hope that the crystal will follow his wishes. The cliff side starts to shake and cracks form along the metal where he is. One of the cracks splits the cliff where his claws are stuck into the metal causing him to fall a few pedes before he can get his claws back into the metal cliff side. His processor stings with radiation at his depth in the Sea of Light. He slowly climbs back up and holds out his servo to the crystal and asks for a reasonable amount to make something beautiful out of. The metal rock side dissolves around a servo size of crystal before it breaks off into Prowl’s black servo. He frowns when he realizes that now he is down a servo to climb back up. 

“You must like being in danger,” a voice says, one that belongs to the silver mech. Prowl glances up to see the spark colored optics of Primus. “Toss the crystal up and then climb up. I will make sure none take it.” 

Prowl tosses the crystal up to the silver mech who sets it a pede from the edge and turns back to watch Prowl climb up. When Prowl climbs back up to the surface the silver mech is gone and the crystal is buried in the metal shavings. He pants as his vents cool his overheating frame from the stress and radiation. Prowl takes the crystal back to Orion Pax’s shop to finish working. Bending the wire, shaping the crystal and folding it, he makes an intricate sphere with small tendrils of sapphire and onyx with the tips of frosted crystal. Along the curved wire the crystal makes small loops and teardrop pendants. He smiles at the small necklace like chime. 

“That’s beautiful,” Orion Pax says, Prowl glances up with a smile on his face. “Jazz will love it.”

“I hope,” Prowl smiles and stands to hug his friend, servo sliding up the other Praxian’s chest he leans up to kiss the red and blue mech when the chime of the door sounds. Prowl glances over to see the sapphire visored mech standing in the doorway. He glances down, as Jazz’s frown grows. 

“I thought you said ya weren’t gonna do this anymore,” Jazz frowns at Orion Pax. “I thought you were my friend. I guess I was wrong about both of you.”

“Jazz, I’m sorry, I . . . I . . . it’s something about being near a Praxian, I can’t explain it,” Prowl moves away from Orion Pax and takes the necklace chime. “I love you more than Orion, I just . . . after Armortide . . . Jazz, I don’t want to lose you. Please.”

“What if we don’t bond, are you going to keep going to him?” Jazz crosses his arms. 

“No . . . I . . . I’ll stay where ever you want me to,” Prowl takes Jazz’s servo in his and leans in to kiss him. Jazz shies away as he glares at the red and blue mech. Prowl slides the necklace into his armor pocket as he frowns and moves away from Jazz. “I’m sorry. I’ll leave.”

Prowl moves around Jazz and opens the door to leave when Jazz catches his servo. He glances back at the silver and black mech. 

“Will you help me do something before my Sire takes me out on a hunt this orn?” Jazz looks up at the Praxian. “It’s something that he would have a spark attack if he learned I did it.”

“Are we alright?” Prowl asks when Jazz leads him out of the shop and down towards the pier. Jazz tilts his helm to the side before nodding and threading his digits through Prowl’s claws. 

“I just wanted . . . I didn’t think you’d go back to him,” Jazz frowns as they reach the beach and go to the cliff. “I thought I was enough for—“

“Jazz, you are, he’s a friend and it’s not uncommon for Praxians to . . . to go around. I was never interested before I met you because I didn’t want to be tied to the cavern. I wanted the surface and you and Orion allow me to be on the surface. My spark belongs to you, whether I ever trust you enough to give it or not. I will never bond to another if I cannot bond to you.”

“Good, because I’m gonna win back your trust somehow,” Jazz smiles and gets down on the beach to look over the edge. He frowns and glances up at Prowl. “Someone stole my crystal.”

“What?” Prowl kneels down to look over the edge and smiles slightly. “Why does it matter? It’s just a crystal.”

“I . . .” Jazz starts sniffling. “Everything’s just going bad right now. You’re with Orion now and now the crystal is gone and it would have been so pretty being formed by you . . . why did everything have to go to the pit?”

Prowl frowns slightly, taking the necklace out of his pocket and carefully placing it around Jazz’s neck. The mech continues to sob until Prowl moves away from him. Jazz glances down to see the necklace and gasps before squealing so loud Prowl winces and backs away. 

“You climbed down there to get me it,” Jazz stands and jumps over to Prowl, watching as the crystal sphere glitters in the light. “Oooh, Prowler, it’s so pretty! I love it! Thank you!” 

Jazz grabs Prowl’s helm to press a hard kiss on the Praxian’s lips. Prowl laughs as Jazz continues to squeal. 

“I thought I’d find you two here,” Triveil says walking up to them. Jazz immediately goes over to his sire to tell him what Barricade gave him. Triveil glances up at Prowl and smiles. “How would you two like to come out hunting? I think we should try our luck in the dense forests.”

Prowl freezes minutely at the memory of the dense forest. “I don’t have my bow.”

“I brought it,” Trivel holds out the crystal bow and arrows, Jazz frowns as Prowl takes them. 

“When did you get a bow?” Jazz whispers as Triveil leads them out of the village and through the clearing to the dense forest. 

“He asked me on a hunt when you were in Polyhex,” Prowl frowns. “I thought you’d want me to get along with your Sire.”

“But it’s an outsider weapon,” Jazz takes his crossbow out of his subspace. “I thought you were against outsider weapons.”

“We used to make bows as sparklings. Besides it’s made of Cyberbear crystals.”

“Right,” Jazz shakes his helm as Triveil begins to talk to them, telling them about his previous hunts in the area, where he found what where. 

“Just over this hill is a small hunter village we use as a camp,” Triveil says and Prowl’s tanks churn at the thought of camp. Jazz runs into his Sire as he looks worried at Prowl. “What happened?”

Jazz scrambles up to see the deactivated mechs covered in dried blue Energon. Cyberhawks and cyberwolves tear apart the remains. Prowl’s Energon runs cold as Jazz glances at him and notices Triveil is looking at him too. 

“Do you think a Cyberbear got to the camp?” Jazz asks as Triveil looks around their surroundings. 

“I don’t know but now we can’t stay here for the dark-cycle,” Triveil says and starts down the path around the camp. “Jazz could you scout on ahead, I need to ask Barricade something.”

“Okay, sure,” Jazz glances at Prowl before walking a few pedes in front of them. Triveil turns his gaze on Prowl as they follow Jazz. 

“Those wounds were Praxian, I’ve seen them before, in the early settlement,” Triveil frowns. “Did your clan’s hunting party do that?”

“No,” Prowl frowns and glances at Jazz marching up ahead. “I came across their camp. I thought they were Praxians. I was wrong. They wanted to kill me. I reacted the only way I know and that happened.”

“You’re telling me a village of twenty highly skilled hunters were all deactivated by you?” Triveil frowns. 

“Yes,” Prowl bites his lip. “It wasn’t without cost to me though. I was close to deactivation.”

“But one mech against twenty, even I couldn’t do that.”

“They had weapons, all I had and needed were fangs and claws.”

“Still, some of the weapons were ranged and fangs and claws are not ranged.”

“I was also created with fangs and claws,” Prowl rolls his optics. “Even as a sparkling we know basic defense.”

“What kept you from attacking Jazz?” Triveil frowns as Jazz strays off the path a little to look at some sort of flower vine. 

“He interested me,” Prowl shrugs as Jazz jumps back on the path only to veer off again to look at another flower. 

“How? Surely it’s not his defenseless behavior,” Triveil motions his servo to Jazz running farther up the path only to stop again. 

“Actually it was, he wasn’t too concerned about the forest around him and that made me somewhat protective of him.”

“ I suppose I should be thankful that you were the one to find interest of him rather than a cyberbear or cyberwolf,” Triveil shakes his helm as Jazz falls on the ground from tripping over a crystal tree root. 

“Most cyberbears would just glance over him,” Prowl laughs. “He’s not much of a threat. He’s not a fighter. A cyberwolf though, it depends if it’s an alpha or carrier. Carriers would probably go up to him and sort of adopt him. Alphas would attack.”

“So you hunt cyberbears often?”

“We try to stay away from them, they are more powerful than we are but when it comes down to it we could win, I’ve actually fought two since I met Jazz.”

Triveil’s optics brighten as he looks at Prowl, “you were the one who deactivated that cyberbear that nearly deactivated Jazz.”

“Yes,” Prowl smiles, bowing his helm slightly. 

“Sire!” Jazz whines loudly, scaring away any cyberbirds in the trees. “I’m tired of walking. Why did we have to go so far?”

“He hates long hunts,” Triveil sighs. “Worse than moving to Praxus.”

“Perhaps it’s the lack of a certain company,” Prowl smirks and runs up to Jazz silently and the silver and black mech screams when Prowl grabs him around the waist and spins him around. Jazz looks up at him with a bright visor, helm tilted to the side as Prowl leans down to kiss him. “Not bored now?”

“I still don’t want to walk,” Jazz pouts up at him as Triveil catches up with them. Prowl takes Jazz’s servos before turning around and ducking under Jazz’s arm. He pulls the smaller mech up on his back and Jazz wraps his legs around Prowl’s waist. 

“Better?” Prowl smiles over his shoulder at the visored mech. 

“Much,” Jazz lays his helm on Prowl’s shoulder as he smiles. He traces small patterns on Prowl’s chest plates as Prowl walks behind Triveil towards their destination. “What really happened in that village?”

“What do you mean?” Prowl asks keeping his voice low.

“Did a Praxian attack those hunters?” Jazz’s frown comes through in his voice. “I would hate to think what could happen to just two mechs in a hunting party. What if that happened when Sire and I was there?”

“Jazz, you wouldn’t have deactivated,” Prowl frowns as he hears the small hums of distant Praxian armor. 

“How do you know?”

“Because . . . I wouldn’t have deactivated you,” Prowl rubs his thumb over Jazz’s servos clasped over his spark. “They intended on deactivating me after I thought they were Praxians. I should have known something was off before I even went near the camp.”

“You killed them all?” Jazz tenses along Prowl’s back as the Praxian nods. 

“I had no choice, they would have deactivated me.”

The rest of the walk to the second camp is in silence as Jazz thinks over what Prowl said. Triveil talks with the mechs in the hunter camp while Jazz slides off Prowl’s back to stand next to him. 

“You won’t deactivate them, will you?” Jazz frowns as he watches the hunters and his Sire. 

“If they don’t give me the need to,” Prowl presses a kiss to the side of the black helm. “Where do you normally stay when you visit the hunter camps?”

“In a tent with my Sire.” Jazz sighs as Triveil follows a mech to the middle of the camp. He follows alone, servo sliding into Prowl’s and leading him to the tents. 

“A tent,” Prowl says quietly as Triveil ducks into the opening. “Does it eat mechs?”

“No,” Jazz bursts out laughing at Prowl’s question and pulls the mech into the tent. Prowl holds his vents as he steps in. 

“Welcome to your new home for the next two orns,” Triveil smiles as he opens his arms to the one roomed open but cramped tent, with three grown mechs inside. 

“See, what fun I have on my hunting trips,” Jazz lets his helm fall against Prowl’s shoulder. 

“I don’t see how it’s all that bad, you have an alarm system around you,” Prowl smirks. “If a predator comes in some mech will scream before it gets to you.”

Triveil stares at Prowl while Jazz falls on the ground cackling and wheezing. 

Prowl shrugs, “what, it’s true.”

“Jazz, where did you find this mech again?” Triveil shakes his helm and moves past Prowl to exit the tent. “Be safe you two.”

“What do you normally do around the camps while your Sire is busy?” Prowl asks settling down on the ground beside Jazz who is sprawled out. 

“Interface with you,” Jazz smiles and tackles Prowl.

“But I wasn’t here—“

“Ya are now!” Jazz chirps and presses a kiss to Prowl’s lips. 

 

Prowl onlines to the smell of warm Energon. Not the normal warmed Energon one would serve to calm a mech, but warm Energon of boiled Energon. He glances down at Jazz tucked in his arms. The smell doesn’t come from him and he glances over to where Triveil is recharging. The smell isn’t there, it seems to come through the tent. What good is the shelter if it lets things from the outside in? Might as well recharge like the Praxian hunting groups in the bare open surroundings. 

He tries to open the tent door by pushing on it but nothing happens. He sees a glowing light down the middle of the door and trails his clawed digit over it and the door opens. He glances back at Jazz and Triveil before stepping out and moving his digit back up the blue line to make the door seal. 

“Strange contraptions,” Prowl murmurs to himself as he stands and looks around the darkened camp. White smoke rises from a few tents to the left and Prowl heads toward it, the sounds of other mech’s, other outsiders comes to his audios. 

“You must be Barricade,” one of the mechs smile as Prowl walks up to see what they are doing. 

“Yes, how do you know me?” Prowl frowns, he never gave this mech his designation.

“Triveil said you’d be around here with Jazz. I’m surprised to see you out here. Jazz normally stays in the tent until it’s either time for Energon or a hunt or time to leave.”

“Well, he’s recharging now, I’ve never really been to this kind of camp before and decided to . . . explore,” Prowl frowns as he notices the boiled Energon comes from the oddly shaped metal container. He glances up at the mechs with slightly purple Energon, his tanks churn at the smell of the mech’s breath. 

“Do you want to come out on the hunt this dark cycle?” one of the less drunken hunters asks. “I don’t know if you’re like Jazz and could care less about hunting or not.”

“I wouldn’t mind,” Prowl says the crystal bow detaches from his back armor, the thin barely noticeable cord on the front of his armor dislodges itself as his plating moves minutely to free it. The bag of arrows slowly fades into view along his back, not that these drunken mechs would realize that it just appeared out of nowhere. “I actually enjoy hunting.”

“Finally Triveil found a mech who loves hunting,” another mech slings his arm around Prowl’s shoulders, Prowl suppresses a flinch by chuckling a bit. 

“It seems he has,” Prowl smiles, keeping a watchful optics on the mech so close to him. A mech he knows nothing about. 

“You, dear friend, are not going with us, you’re too drunk to even know a mech from a berthmat,” the mech who asked him to come says and steers the mech away from Prowl. Prowl silently sighs as the mech disappears from sight. 

“What exactly do you hunt?” Prowl asks as the small group of hunters move out of the camp. 

“Anything we can find really, normally just small creatures,” the mech says as they head out into the darkened forest. The sounds of the Praxian armor humming in the forest catches his attention as he follows the outsiders to where ever they are hunting. 

 

Prowl returns just before the star comes over the horizon and slips into the tent as Triveil onlines. Prowl slips back beside Jazz who immediately wraps his arms around him and buries his face into his chest. Triveil leaves them alone and Prowl trails his claws gently over Jazz’s helm.

“Want to get up, Jazzy?” Prowl asks quietly.

The silver mech moans before shaking his helm and cuddling more into Prowl’s frame. “Don’ wanna.”

“But it is star rise,” Prowl smiles as Jazz presses his forhelm into his chest. 

“You went out hunting last dark cycle, means ya gotta recharge and Ah gotsta recharge with ya.”

“You’re just being lazy,” Prowl smiles and cups the smaller mechs helm. 

“I’d rather be lazy with you here than lazy by myself,” Jazz pulls his arms from around Prowl to curl them up to his chest in the warm pocket their two frames make. Servos press against his chest, over his spark chamber and Jazz presses his forehelm back against his chest. 

“Fine, we’ll be lazy together,” Prowl smiles and pulls Jazz closer as the smaller mech returns to recharge. He listens to the mechs milling around outside. How strange it is to be in a tent in a hunting camp. A hunter can’t even see his surroundings, what good is it if you can’t see if something is attacking you.

 

Triveil comes back in the tent later the afternoon, Prowl lies on his back with Jazz sprawled out over him. Prowl’s blue visor dim while Jazz’s is off. 

“I think he finds you more comfortable than the berthmat,” Triveil smiles.

“I think so too,” Prowl says moving to sit up and Jazz slides down his frame, helm resting against his abdomen. 

“The whole camp is going out hunting in a few pulses,” Triveil states as he puts together his weapons and subspaces them. Prowl gently shakes Jazz online, the smaller mech grumbles softly as his visor onlines.

“But I don’t wanna go hunting,” Jazz whines sleepily. 

“I am going hunting so that means you’re going to be here all alone,” Prow smiles before pressing a small kiss to Jazz’s lips and following Triveil out of the tent. 

“Wait for me!” Jazz hops out of the tent and runs after the two mechs, grabbing Prowl’s arm with both of his. Prowl smiles down at Jazz.

“Some orn you will like hunting,” Prowl trails his claws down the silver arm. 

“What exactly are we hunting?” Jazz asks as they come to a stop beside Triveil in the group. Four other groups stand around the camp. 

“Praxians and cyberwolves,” the group leader says, Triveil glances at Prowl. Prowl tenses beside Jazz and the smaller mech slides one arm around his waist. 

“We’ll hunt the cyberwolves,” Jazz whispers to Prowl and pats his arm as they head out. Prowl nods and follows the group in pace with Jazz. The hums of crystal armor fill the forest all around them and Prowl steps closer to Jazz who glances up at him, visor bright and field full of confusion and curiosity. 

“There are Praxians all around us,” Prowl says, tightening his grip on Jazz’s servo. “They are on their own hunt.”

“Will they hurt us?” Jazz whispers, glancing around the forest not seeing anything. “How do you know they’re out there?”

“Their armor sings,” Prowl says as he holds his free servo up to Jazz’s audio. Jazz’s visor brightens as he hears the low ringing of Prowl’s servo. “Our armor reacts to each other’s even with great distances.”

“These aren’t your clan are they?” Jazz bites his lip as he glances around more. 

“We are too far from them, we’ve never been this far on a hunt, we normally stay to around our cavern and up the mountains,” Prowl smiles lightly. “I would warn my clan to turn around. Though they are other Praxians, clans don’t normally keep in contact with other clans unless many of the Praxians bonded into the clan.”

“You aren’t going to warn them?” Jazz frowns up at Prowl. 

“They would see me with the outsiders and relay that back to my clan. I would be either locked in the cavern or banished from my family.”

“How would they lock you in the caverns? You sneak out.”

“They would keep me in the council building until they found my sparkmate and force me to bond with the mech. I would be given a function that has complete surveillance and I wouldn’t be allowed to go anywhere other than home and to my function.”

“Why would you want to stay with them if they lock you up?”

“It’s our way of life, it’s a risk I take to be with you.”

“You could come live with me and my Sire, I’m sure if we bond or we have sparklings together then my Sire won’t hurt you.”

“I cannot keep my disguise up for forever,” Prowl frowns as the group splits into two groups. Jazz pulls Prowl away from them and wraps his arms around the black and purple mech. 

“Why don’t we go hunt for Cyberwolves?” Jazz asks, missing the look of wariness his Sire sends back at him as the group goes farther down the path. 

“There is a pack of cyberwolves past the stream,” Prowl nods to the forest behind Jazz. “I can smell them, they’ve been following us since the camp.”

“Should we warn the others?” Jazz starts to move toward where the other’s left. 

“They are hunters, I’m sure they can defend themselves, besides we are more of their target. Two mechs alone in the forest, seemingly unarmed.”

Prowl slides his servos down to Jazz’s hips before leaning in, lips pressing against Jazz’s, glossa sliding over his lips. Jazz slides his servos over Prowl’s shoulder plates as the Praxian backs him to a tree. A growl makes Jazz jump and glance to the left; two cyberwolves crouch down ready to attack. Growls come from Prowl and Jazz glances at the Praxian in front of him. He falls to the ground when Prowl leaves him and lunges for the wolves, the Praxian’s disguise falling as he attacks. Jazz sits on the ground watching as Prowl attacks the wolves, the black claws dig into the cyberwolf’s pelt before the Praxian bites the wolf’s neck making the creature go limp. The other cyberwolf jumps on Prowl biting at the Praxian’s armor. Jazz watches as the two wrestle on the ground before Prowl bites the wolf’s neck. Prowl’s frame is covered in the wolves Energon, claw marks are scattered over his frame. Prowl glances up at Jazz, wincing at the other mech’s stare. The other mech’s visor is bright blue, mouth hanging open. 

“Jazz?” Prowl whispers, afraid to scare the mech. Jazz glances at him.

“I have an amazing bodyguard,” Jazz smiles as he stands and starts walking to Prowl. A blur of red, white and gold runs into Jazz and Prowl screams as Jazz is tackled to the ground. The Praxian meets Prowl’s gaze and Prowl stares at the other one in shock. 

“What are you doing?” Prowl asks, carefully watching the other Praxian and trying to assess Jazz’s injuries. The silver and black mech lies unconscious on the ground from the force of the blow. For a split second he remembers Jazz is carrying a developing sparkling and a growl escapes him. The Praxian threatened his sparkling. 

“I’m saving you, while you were hunting this . . . thing was stalking you,” the Praxian says. “You’re lucky I was here to help you.”

“I don’t need any help,” Prowl frowns and stands.

“Anyway, I’ll finish it for you,” the Praxian youngling turns back to Jazz’s vulnerable form. Prowl growls and lunges at the Praxian, hitting him away from Jazz. Neither Praxian notices Jazz onlining. 

“I will, it was stalking me I deserve to offline it,” Prowl growls in warning as he stands between Jazz and the Praxian. Jazz whimpers causing both Praxians to look at him. Prowl lunges before the other can do anything, he bites Jazz’s neck, or at least appears to. His fangs glitter with blue Energon from the wolves and the Praxian starts moving away seeing that Prowl has everything under control. Jazz keeps whimpering and tries to push Prowl away. Prowl releases his hold on Jazz’s neck. A black fist flies toward his helm and he catches the fist in his servo. Growling, he glares at Jazz, gold optics molten in his stare. 

“Will you stop doing that!” Jazz pushes Prowl away. “I don’t like being attacked. I don’t know if you’re acting or not.”

“Is our sparkling going to be alright?” Prowl asks touching Jazz’s abdomen. Jazz frowns as he glances up at Prowl to see the Praxian’s worried face. 

“Yeah, I guess,” Jazz continues to frown. He jumps a little when Prowl leans down to press his audial against his frame. “It’s not gonna do anything. It’s just a shell.” 

“But it’s our sparkling,” Prowl frowns. 

“It’s not until you spark me,” Jazz looks down at the Praxian’s chest. “It would be anyone’s who sparks me.”

“No one else is going to be close to you,” Prowl growls as he wraps his arms around the smaller mech. “You’re mine.” 

 

Jazz onlines to growls and a cry of pain and onlines his optics to see Prowl covered in Energon. Sitting up, Jazz sees two cyberwolves on the ground and Prowl eating from them. His tanks churn as the memory of Prowl consuming the mech comes to his processor. Maybe Praxians were more like animals than he thought, but he doesn’t love Prowl any less. 

The crack of the cyberwolf’s struts makes Jazz purge and Prowl glances over at him. Jazz meets Prowl’s golden optics, frowning when the Praxian starts laughing. 

“You are not a hunter,” Prowl continues to laugh and holds out his servo for Jazz. Jazz shakes his helm but moves closer to Prowl anyway. Prowl pulls him to sit beside the Energon covered wolf. He grimaces when Prowl pulls out part of the wolf, his Energon stills when Prowl hands him part of the wolf’s frame.

“What do you want me to do with it?” Jazz frowns, idea forming in his processor about what Prowl wanted. 

“Eat it,” Prowl says and drops the Energon covered piece of spark chamber in his servos. Jazz stares down at the soft metal.

“Why?” Jazz glances up at Prowl, the Praxian stares at him. 

“It will help the sparkling form,” Prowl frowns and glances down at Jazz’s servos holding the part of the cyberwolf away from him. “It would be more ideal to have a mech’s but I doubt you’d want that. This is the next best thing.”

“We have additives back in our village,” Jazz frowns. 

“This wolf was a carrier, it’s carried before. The spark chamber has everything a Carrier needs.”

“You’re not going to let me pass by on this, are you?” Jazz pouts, Prowl shakes his helm. Jazz grits his denta before bringing the piece of metal up to his mouth. He glances at Prowl who is still watching him, tanks churning as he takes a bite of it. He gags at the taste, before taking another bite. He glances up at Prowl when he finishes it. “That was disgusting.” 

“It will help,” Prowl turns back to the wolf. Jazz watches as Prowl moves on to the next wolf.

“Please don’t make me eat something from that one,” Jazz holds his servo over his tanks. Prowl laughs and claws open the wolf’s frame. 

“It doesn’t taste that bad,” Prowl smirks and rips out the Energon filter of the wolf. Jazz gags as Prowl bites down on it. 

 

Prowl finishes the wolf and watches Jazz walking around, the poor mech needed to have a stronger tank if he wanted to ever be with him. He frowns as Jazz doesn’t even look at him. “Jazz?”

Jazz glances up at Prowl, he walks over to the Praxian. “I don’t want to ever do that again. My tanks still don’t feel good.”

“Fine,” Prowl glances down. “I thought it would help our sparkling.”

“We aren’t going to have a sparkling unless you spark me,” Jazz glares at him. 

“We will, I will merge with you, just not right now,” Prowl stands and takes Jazz’s servos in his. “There is something I need to do before we merge. Something you need to see.”

“Can’t you show me now?” Jazz frowns, then glances over toward the trail. “Sire’s calling us back, the hunting party is returning.”

“Take the wolves and go on ahead, I need to clean up before I go,” Prowl glances down at his crystal armor covered in dried Energon. 

“Eww,” Jazz says but takes each of the wolves’ paws in his servos and drags their frames to the trail. Prowl chuckles before heading to the river. He approaches the river and starts cleaning his armor of the Energon when a growl comes from behind him. He barely turns to see a pack of cyberwolves lunging at him and screams out when their fangs sink into his crystal armor. They tug and rip parts of his armor off before one yowls in pain. Prowl slashes his claws at one when he smells an outsider approaching him. He growls, golden optics molten as he looks to the outsider with his gun raised. The outsider collapse to the ground and Triveil stands behind him. Prowl jumps as the mech’s frame clatters to the metal ground. 

“Jazz said you were going to the river when we heard you scream,” Triveil kneels beside him. Prowl tries to get up but falls back down, his arm is missing most of the outer armor and his frame is covered in claw and fang marks, his leg is missing a large portion of armor too, Energon leaks over his frame. Triveil helps him to the river and starts washing the water over the Praxian’s frame. Prowl’s helm falls back and hit’s Triveil’s shoulder. “Prowl?”

“Hnn?” Prowl mumbles and lifts his helm up a bit. His helm falls against Triveil’s neck and his optics offline. 

“Prowl, stay online,” Triveil shakes the Praxian and Prowl mumbles but onlines his optics. The sounds of other outsiders cause Prowl to tremble and whimper. “You have to turn into Barricade. Come on, Prowl.”

Slowly the black and purple bleed into his black and white crystal frame, the wounds are still visible and Energon still leaks out. The other hunters come into the small clearing as Triveil tries to clean the wounds. 

“We need to get him back to the camp,” the leader of the group says and Triveil picks Prowl up, noticing how the black part of his armor flickers between crystal and metal. They reach the trail and Jazz glances at Prowl before crying out and coming to his Sire’s side.

“What happened?” Jazz asks, glancing around at the others for any indication of them knowing he’s Praxian. 

“A pack of cyberwolves attacked him when he was kneeling by the river,” Triveil says as the others carry the downed hunter. “He was knocked out by a wolf before I got it.”

“Is Barricade going to be alright?” Jazz asks looking up at his Sire.

“He should be once his wounds are cleaned and bandaged,” Triveil smiles down at Jazz. “You can clean him up while I get the bandages.”

“Okay,” Jazz says grabbing two buckets of water as he passes by the medical tent. Triveil lays Prowl in their tent and leaves to retrieve the bandages. Jazz starts wiping the rag over Prowl’s frame as the Praxian’s armor flickers from metal to crystal. It finally settles on crystal and Jazz closes the tent before washing the Praxian’s armor. He hears his Sire approaching the tent and jumps to the door. “You can’t come in here Sire!” 

“But I have the bandages.”

“Leave them at the door of the tent,” Jazz says and hears his Sire leaving and opens the door to grab the wraps. He turns back to Prowl and sees most of the smaller wounds healed. He winces at the gapes in his arm and leg. “How is that going to heal?”

Jazz washes the rest of the Praxian’s armor with water before soaking the rag in it and laying it against the gape in armor on Prowl’s leg. Maybe that would help. He wraps the bandages around the rag before doing the same with Prowl’s arm. Finishing with wrapping his wounds, Jazz grabs his blanket and cover’s the Praxian up, he frowns as he looks at Prowl’s crystalized helm. He wraps the bandages around Prowl’s helm, only letting his visor and mouth free. He nods at his handy work as he hears mechs approaching the tent. 

“Jazz, we have an Energon IV for him if you want me to come in and hook it up,” Triveil asks. 

“You can come in,” Jazz calls to his Sire and Triveil steps into the tent. He stares at the mummified looking Praxian before stepping closer and setting the stand on the ground. Jazz starts to say something when Triveil uncovers Prowl’s servo to put the Energon line in his wrist cable. Jazz bites his lip as he watches his Sire. The white crystal servo shimmers in the light, Triveil lays Prowl’s servo back on the ground after putting in the IV in. Jazz meets his Sire’s optics and winces. “You aren’t going to . . . you know hurt him, are you?”

“Jazz, I’ve known he was one for a while now,” Triveil says. “He saved me on a hunt when you were in Polyhex.”

“Oh,” Jazz frowns, rubbing the back of his helm. “Does he know you know?” 

“Yes,” Trivel says covering the Praxian’s servo back and starts chuckling. “Do you need more bandages?”

“Uh . . . sure,” Jazz smiles as he looks up at his Sire. Trivel shakes his helm with a smile on his faceplates as he leaves the tent. 

 

Prowl onlines feeling something on his armor, something around his armor, optics online and he notices he is in the tent back at the camp. His arm and leg throbs in pain as something snuggles closer to his left side. He glances down to see the blanket over him and the form of someone under the blanket. Optics bright in surprise, he pulls the blanket back to see Jazz curled up at his side. He frowns when he notices his armor is covered in bandages. He can feel he is in his Praxian armor but the wraps cover it. He smiles down at Jazz before sliding his good arm under the mech’s frame and pulling him to his chest. Jazz sighs as he is laid down on his chest, Prowl presses a light kiss on Jazz’s forehelm. 

“You’re up,” Jazz says resting his chin on Prowl’s collar. “How do you feel?”

“Like I was attempted to be ripped apart,” Prowl winces as he tries to sit up. He bites his glossa as he tries to move his right arm. 

“I tried my best to wrap your arm, there was a chunk of armor missing from your right arm and left leg.”

“It will heal slowly,” Prowl frowns. “I should go see the medic though.”

“Medic?” Jazz bites his lip. “I don’t think that would be a good idea.”

“I meant my medic, he’s a guard, one of my friends,” Prowl says and tries to sit up. 

“You mean now?” Jazz looks up at the Praxian when he sits up. Prowl nods slightly. 

“It would be best, the longer I am injured the more likely I will be deactivated if something happens,” Prowl winces as he tries to stand with Jazz’s help.

“Let me get my Sire to help,” Jazz says as Prowl falls back to the ground and holds in a scream of pain. 

“Jazz, wait . . . I need to tell you something . . . he knows . . . he knows about me,” Prowl frowns as he catches Jazz’s servo.

“I know, he said he knew since I went to Polyhex,” Jazz looks down. Prowl nods as Jazz leaves to get his Sire. Jazz returns moments later and they start packing up their belongings, Prowl frowns as he watches them.

“I didn’t mean for you to cut your trip short,” Prowl meets Jazz’s optics then glances at Triveil.

“It’s better to leave early then to get stuck in the dark cycle,” Triveil says as he subspaces his things. Jazz does the same before Triveil steps over to him. Jazz frowns as Prowl allows Trivel to help him up and hold him up. Jazz walks on Prowl’s right as they start leaving the tent. 

“Is all of my frame covered?” Prowl asks glancing up at Jazz’s Sire. 

“Jazz made sure of it,” Trivel glances at Jazz who looks up when his name is said. 

“Yup, I don’t want anyone knowin’ what ya are,” Jazz chirps and smiles up at Prowl. 

“Thank you,” Prowl smiles, lifting his injured arm to slide around Jazz’s shoulders. “When we get back within the vicinity of my clan I will alert the guard to come and take me back. He will make sure I am fine. You two should leave before he come for me.”

“You want us to leave an injured Praxian in the woods while hunters are out?” Triveil frowns. “We will be staying until your guard comes.”

“He’ll see you as a threat and deactivate you.”

“That’s a chance I am willing to take and I bet Jazz is with me on that too.”

“Yup, I don’t want ta learn ya deactivated from a cyberwolf or anything,” Jazz frowns. 

 

Prowl onlines to being carried and glances up at Triveil carrying him, he feels the familiar hum of his clan’s armor. “Stop, we’re close enough.” ~Smokescreen, I need you to tell Ratchet to come help me. I’m injured. I was attacked by cyberwolves and I can’t get back to the caves. My right arm is injured and my left leg doesn’t work.~

~We’ll be there in a few pulses,~ Smokescreen replies. 

“The guard and my brother are coming, they will be here in a few pulses, you can leave now, nothing will attack me,” Prowl says as Triveil sets him in front of a rock to use as support to sit up. 

“We’re staying,” Jazz crosses his arms and plops down beside Prowl’s left. Prowl nods and after a few pulses the sound of something coming makes Triveil raise his gun in defense. The growl of an Arcitheryum comes and Prowl tenses as Jazz curls up beside him. Triveil backs to them as the cyberbear comes into the small clearing. Another growl comes and two mechs jump on the cyberbear’s side, Energon drips down the cyberbear as the Praxians gouge and bite the bear’s hide. Triveil glances back at Prowl to see him relaxed. The cyberbear throws the sensory paneless Praxian into a tree but the mech stands up and moves back to attack. Once the cyberbear falls to the ground the Praxians glance up at the group of mechs, the guard growls at the hunter. 

“Give him over to us,” Ratchet growls as he flexes his claws. Jazz stands up and stomps toward the Praxian guard. Prowl grabs the mech’s servo, wincing as Energon starts leaking though the bandages.

“Jazz, he will not harm you if you do not harm us,” Prowl says and the silver mech glances back. Triveil lays down his weapon, optics never leaving the Praxian guard.

“That is Jazz?” Ratchet asks then laughs. “I was expecting a larger mech, but his Sire is the lead hunter here.”

Smokescreen and Ratchet growl and glare at Triveil who holds up his servos. 

“Ratchet, Smokescreen, they helped me back, I need you to trust them enough not to hurt me.”

“Smokescreen, watch the hunter while I look over Prowl,” Ratchet says optics never leaving the hunter. 

“What about me?” Jazz pouts as Smokescreen watches his Sire.

“Jazz, you seriously are not a threat,” Prowl laughs, as Ratchet kneels down beside him and unwraps the bandages. Jazz huffs as he kneels on the other side of Prowl. “You don’t smell like a hunter, you smell like either a waste of time or prey.” 

“Waste of time,” Ratchet sniffs the air and turns back to his work of uncovering the black and white Praxian. 

“Thanks,” Jazz huffs and falls back on the rock. “So you’re the guard that lets Prowler come out to see me?”

“My mate and I,” Ratchet nods, “and if you ever tell anyone about it I will crush you into a tile.”

“He means that, literally,” Prowl whispers over to Jazz, smile on his face. 

 

Jazz watches as the red and white Praxian without sensor panels works on Prowl and notices that Prowl never had sensory panels. Was Prowl a guard? Or at least a guard in training. He never really talked about what he did at home. But then why would his brother, Smokescreen, have sensory panels? 

Jazz watches as Prowl winces and hisses as the red and white guard uncovers his leg. Dried Energon falls off in clumps as Ratchet pulls the bandages away. Jazz winces at the sight of Prowl’s leg missing half his armor, the gray protoform shows. 

“Will he be alright?” Jazz asks looking up at the red and white Praxian.

“This is hardly the first time a Praxian had this kind of injury,” the guard replies. “His internal repair system is working on his arm right now, from the clumps of Energon I would say his arm is nearly healed by now.”

Prowl leans up to let the Guard unwrap his right arm. The bandages come off and Jazz gasps at Prowl’s whole arm, not even a scratch is on it. He reaches out to trail his digits over it. 

“His leg will take the rest of the orn,” Ratchet says and puts Prowl’s arm around his shoulders and lifts the Praxian up. 

“You’re leaving?” Jazz pouts up at them. 

“Other Praxian are coming on their hunt,” Prowl says. “You two need to go back to your village.”

“But you’re still—“

“Jazz, I will be fine,” Prowl smiles and holds out his free servo. Jazz takes it and Prowl pulls him close to kiss him. “Ratchet’s like a Carrier to me. Armortide was his creation.”

“Oh,” Jazz frowns before stealing another kiss and then hopping over to his Sire. Smokescreen backs away with the two Praxians as they disappear into the forest. 

 

“I still don’t trust them,” Smokescreen says, sensory panels flicking on his back. 

“Then we will take our time to the cavern,” Ratchet says 

“They won’t hurt us,” Prowl frowns at his brother. “Triveil had a chance but he didn’t, I make Jazz happy and that’s what matters to him.”

“He could be trying to gain your trust and then backstab you,” Smokescreen frowns. 

“He’s the one that saved me from the pack of cyberwolves,” Prowl winces as his pede hits a small rock and shoots pain up his neural net. “If he wasn’t there I’d be deactivated.”

“He could just be gaining your trust,” Smokescreen repeats, shaking his helm as they descend into the tunnels.


	23. Chapter 23

Prowl onlines on the berth in Ratchet’s and Ironhide’s home, smiling at the softness of the blankets against his frame he can imagine Armortide onlining beside him. He frowns as his thoughts stray to the deactivated mech. The sparks shield pulses along his back with his spark, the warmth radiating into him. He pulls back the blanket to find his leg is fully healed. Slight worry flutters over his spark as he thinks about going to his own home. What was the story the guards gave them this time? Prowl slides off the berth and walks down the stairs to see Ironhide sitting on the couch sipping his Energon.

“Ratchet likes Jazz,” Ironhide smiles when Prowl walks into the room. “He thinks you make a nice couple. And you lied to me when you said you weren’t interfacing with an outsider.”

“I wasn’t then,” Prowl glares at the black mech.

“Ratchet also said you had a Praxian sparkmate you visited,” Ironhide glances up at the black and white mech. “Is he gone?”

“No, not entirely,” Prowl glances away. 

“You should spend more time with the Praxian. You never know, you might love him more than the outsider.”

“He has a lover already, an outsider,” Prowl frowns. 

“Anyway, two Praxian sparkmates together, you can never go wrong, just try it.”

“Fine,” Prowl rolls his optics. “Has my creator’s asked about me?”

“We’ve said that you’ve taken Armortide’s deactivation hard and wanted to spend time over here,” Ironhide says, Prowl nods slightly and heads out of the guard’s house. Instead of going to his home he heads back out to the surface, slipping through the woods without bothering to put up his outsider’s disguise. His sensory panels are hidden behind him as he steps out into the fountain clearing. Jazz sits on the far side drawing in his data-pad. Jazz glances up at him with a smile on his faceplates. 

“You’re all healed,” Jazz jumps up and wraps his arms around Prowl’s waist. “So are you . . . you’re a guard right and that means . . . that means you’re going to have to leave and I . . . won’t—“

“Jazz, I need to show you something, you’ve deserved to know this for a long time now, your Sire already knows and by his reaction I should have shown you sooner,” Prowl steps back from Jazz before releasing his sensory panels. Jazz’s squeal makes him flinch and Jazz appears by his side, servos out reached to touch the sensitive appendages. “Careful, they’re sensitive.”

Jazz nods as he takes a hesitant touch to one of the crystal panel. Barely even touching it, the sensory panel, it twitches under his touch. Jazz trials his servo along the edges and Prowl arches at the touch. Slowly Jazz brushes his palms over the side of the panels. Prowl cries out and falls to his servos and knees. Jazz jumps and stares at the Praxian. 

“Did I hurt you?” Jazz kneels down to Prowl, Prowl shakes his helm before pulling the smaller mech into a deep kiss. 

“No one’s ever touched my sensory panels like that,” Prowl pants on the ground. Jazz smiles before pressing a kiss to the Praxian’s chevron. 

“I have got to draw you now,” Jazz says running back to the fountain and plopping down with his data-pad and stylus in servo. Prowl continues to sit on the ground, pedes tucked under him, sensory panels fluttering slightly, casting multiple rainbows on the ground behind him. 

 

Jazz stares at Prowl for the longest time, just admiring the way the Praxian looks in the mid-orn light. The white crystal of his armor makes rainbows along the ground and on his armor. The black crystals seem to absorb the light and consume it. The red chevron glitters in the light, small fractals make it seem like its shattered. The golden shield seems to glow in the light. The golden optics burn molten as he glances around and the panels, the panels shimmer in the light as they flutter ever so slowly like a Cyberflit. Burning desire grips his spark, how he wants to drag Prowl right up to his room and hide him away, to keep him all to himself. Jealousy grows in him, why did the Praxians get to see him like this every orn and he was only just now seeing him? 

He starts drawing, starting with Prowl’s frame before ever working on those magnificent wings. Once his frame is done, he frowns slightly; it doesn’t look like what he’s seeing. Nothing like crystals should. Maybe Prowl could help him since he painted the crystals so life like in his crystal garden painting. Moving on to the wings, he decides to draw one flat and facing him while the other is at an angle behind him. He thinks about how sensitive they were when he just barely touched the side of the panel; surely they weren’t that sensitive when they were hidden. He decides to ask Prowl later and apologize if he hurt them. 

Through the Quartex of drawing him, he notices that Prowl has not moved, other than his wings fluttering, from the spot since he first started drawing. How could someone sit so still? Could he make his wings be that still for so long?

“Prowler?” He asks, the Praxian’s golden gaze drifts to him. “How did you stay so long without moving?”

“Praxian’s learn to stalk prey at a young age, we perfect the ability to make our entire frame as still and as quiet as possible.”

“Would you make the crystal’s look real?” Jazz holds out his data-pad, Prowl stands gracefully from his position and walks over to him, not even bothering to hide his wings anymore, at least, he hopes in the fountain clearing. His focus goes from Prowl using the stylus to create life like crystals to watching those wings flutter slower. What determined how fast they flutter? Before he realizes it his digits run over the smooth crystals of the wings and the fluttering stills, he glances at Prowl’s face to see the Praxian watching him. 

“Perhaps we should go to your room, I would feel much safer hidden from possible hunters,” Prowl says as his sensory panels fold down against his back and become hidden. His spark pulses sadly as he watches the wings disappear. “I promise you can play with them as much as you like.”

Jazz’s face lights up at the small smirk on the Praxian’s faceplates, he jumps toward Prowl, arms wrapping around the mech’s neck and kisses him light and all over his jaw and cheek. “Thank you, thank you.”

 

Prowl smiles at Jazz’s excited behavior as the black and purple bleed into his frame and the sensors in his sensory panels dim as well as all other sensors. 

“So . . . I told my Sire about you wanting a sparkling and the forming frame in me and he took me to the medic yesterorn,” Jazz says as they head down to the village. “The medic said that the frame is coming along nicely and that whoever was ‘taking care’ of me was doing an amazing job and once I get sparked there shouldn’t be any problems. He said he’d never seen a frame so well taken care of.”

“It was the wolf spark chamber,” Prowl says before they walk into the village. 

“Yeah,” Jazz sighs, groaning a little. “I got that part.”

Prowl follows Jazz up to his room and watches Jazz move his desk chair out of the way and gets down on his servos and knees to crawl under the desk. “What are you doing?”

“Follow me,” Jazz says as he disappears under the desk, Prowl gets down on the floor and sees the trap door. Prowl crawls through the small door and into a large unfurnished room. He stands once he enters the room; along the right wall is a bunch of large pillows stacked on top of each other. He steps further into the room to see it wrap around where the stairs would be and blankets are stacked in the small stretch of room. 

“This has been here all this time?” Prowl asks, black and purple bleeding out of his black and white crystal armor as the sky light windows allow the star light to enter in the otherwise cut off room. Prowl sits on the pillow pile as his sensory panels fold out of his back and Jazz jumps on the pile beside him. 

“Did I ever hurt your wings?” Jazz asks quietly.

“No, not that I remember, as Barricade, I was just concerned about the dampened sensors,” Prowl says before moaning as Jazz trails his digits over his sensory panels. He moves to lay down on his front so he can relax as Jazz explores his panels. The charge races along his frame as Jazz trails his digits down to the joints, his servos grip the pillow in front of him, always being mindful of his claws. He keens as the charge builds up so much it send him into overload; he arches off the pillows and into Jazz’s touch. Jazz’s digits still and Prowl can feel Jazz staring at him while he recovers from the unexpected overload.

“Did you . . . did you just overload?” Jazz asks, servos just barely above touching his sensory panels. Prowl hums affirmative and relaxes back down from arching into the overload. Jazz laughs quietly as he continues to trail his digits over the wings. “Is that normal?”

“Yes, sensory paneled Praxians nearly always have this kind of overload in each other company,” Prowl offlines his optics as he relaxes again. 

“How many times can you overload like that?” 

“As much as I have energy for,” Prowl hums and feels Jazz’s field leave his. He glances behind him to see the smaller silver and black mech leaving. He frowns but doesn’t move because he’s comfortable and starts to fall into recharge. He starts to fall deeper in recharge when he feels Jazz’s field return and mesh with his, the smell of sweetened Energon accompanies Jazz and he looks over his shoulder to see an Energon goodie tray sitting beside the pile of pillows. “Trying to keep me full of energy?” 

“Maybe,” Jazz smiles and starts pressing kisses against his sensory panels. Prowl jerks as the overload takes over his frame, static comes out of his mouth and he falls against the pillows. “Prowl? . . . Prowler?”

“No one that I know of has done that,” Prowl’s voice is rough as he glances back at Jazz. The smaller mech has a smirk on his face, he leans in, glossa sticking out of his mouth. Prowl shutters his optics as the mech’s glossa runs over his sensory panel. Another overload quickly takes over his systems and he falls offline. 

 

Prowl onlines to a weight on his back, between his sensory panels, glancing behind him, he sees Jazz in deep recharge. He smiles as he remembers what happened before his recharge. 

“Jazz?” Triveil calls, Prowl stiffens as the scent of Thungerfange reaches him and the sound of the mech’s armor calls to his. His own is quiet and he doesn’t fear that the older Praxian will find him through his armor. Does Triveil know about this small pocket in their Estate? Jazz stirs as Triveil calls again. His optics meet Jazz’s visor and Jazz puts one digit up to his lips as Triveil continues to call for him. Prowl nods, so Triveil doesn’t know about this. Jazz slowly climbs off Prowl’s back to the blankets and grabs one of the larger blankets before coming over to him. The smaller mech frowns as he looks at the sensory panels, he starts to lower them but Jazz shakes his helm. The smaller mech throws the blanket around his sensory panels and climbs onto his lap before wrapping the blanket up and closing his smaller frame into the warm pocket. He notices how much cooler it is in here than the rest of the estate. Eventually Triveil gives up and heads back down the stairs. 

“That was close,” Jazz sags against Prowl’s warm frame. “You’re warmer than usual.”

“It is cooler in here,” Prowl shrugs and lifts Jazz’s chin up to kiss him.


	24. Chapter 24

Jazz frowns when he onlines alone on the berth, he glances around to see his room empty. Gaze falling over his data-pad shelf he notices some of his data-pads are gone. He frowns as he climbs off the berth to inspect the shelf. 

“Where did my data-pads go?” Jazz glances around his room, searching everywhere for the missing data-pads.

 

Prowl walks into Orion Pax’s shop, servos clenched as he waits for the mech to get a few things ready for them to leave on a hunt. Orion Pax grabs his bow and Prowl steps back to let Orion lead them to the hunting area. They head into the forest on the opposite side of the fountain, into the part of the forest he’s never been before. 

“There’s a cave farther into the woods, no one lives in it and I usually meet Megatron there if I can’t go on his ship,” Orion Pax says, Prowl glances up at him and he feels Orion Pax’s field full of need. “Megatron sent word that his ship has been delayed. I . . . I don’t know who else to turn to. I can stand being alone when the shops busy, but lately there hasn’t been many mechs. The radiation storm that’s delayed Megatron’s’ ship is also delaying the tourist.”

“Orion, it’s alright, I’m here for you until one of us bonds to our lovers,” Prowl rests his servo on Orion Pax’s arm. 

“Well, the cave is part of a larger system, artificially cut off from the rest, it was an old clan cavern,” Orion Pax says. As they approach the darkened entrance. 

“Since we are not in the village anymore, do you think . . . we could . . . I mean it’s not that different from being in a clan cavern . . . that I could be myself?” Prowl asks as they descend into darkness. 

“Of course you can, I will too,” Orion Pax smiles and goes to the small stream that runs through the cave. Prowl steps down onto the bed of the stream as Orion Pax starts to scrub off the paint from his crystal armor. The red and blue crystal shimmers in the dimmed light of the glowworms hanging from the ceiling. Prowl gasps when Orion Pax cups his face and presses a hard kiss to his lips. Prowl moans and slowly sinks to the ground with Orion Pax following him. 

 

Prowl onlines to a berth in one of the abandoned houses, his outsider disguise falls and his crystal armor shimmers in the light of the room. He feels Orion Pax trail his digits over his frame, along his side and around his hip before trailing up his abdominal plating and over his chest armor. 

“So beautiful,” Orion Pax says, pressing light kisses over his shoulders and down his back. “Are you supposed to be a guard?” 

“No, I can keep my panels hidden,” Prowl says as he turns over to face the other Praxian. He leans forward, kissing Orion lightly before the other mech deepens it. 

“Let them out,” Orion Pax whispers in his audio, sensory panels fold out and Orion Pax’s attention turns to trail his digits over the wings. “Let me show you how a Praxian care’s for his mate.”

 

Jazz frowns as he sits on the berth, searching everywhere in his room he still cannot find those data-pads. He sighs and goes down the stairs to ask his Sire. Jazz silently steps down the staircase and steps into the sitting room doorway to see Thunderfange kissing his Sire. He holds back a gag and turns around to go into the kitchen 

 

Prowl follows Orion Pax through the woods, sensory panels tucked in hiding but his crystal armor shimmers in the setting star light. Their bows are strung up on their backs and arrows merged with their back armor. This hunt will be with their natural hunt. Orion Pax stops and Prowl steps up to his side crouching to the ground as they watch their prey, a small herd of crystal stags. They find the Carrier stag and her creations and hunt the others, careful to not frightening her into abandoning her young stags. They attack one stag of their own and take the frames back to the cavern to consume them within the safety of their “home”. 

For a moment he pretends they are bonded, that this little house play is real. He frowns when he wishes Jazz were here instead of Orion Pax. Ironhide wanted him to see how well it went with another Praxian. Prowl looks at Orion as they start eating the stags, Jazz would never be like a Praxian, he would never eat like them. It is a fools hope that they could live in a cavern like this, Jazz was just too accustomed to his Energon handed to him lifestyle.

“You’re thinking about Jazz,” Orion Pax says, Prowl glances up realizing his sensory panels are drooping. “Forget about Jazz for these three orns.”

 

Prowl frowns as he sits on the berth, Orion Pax lays in recharge on the other side of the berth. He misses Jazz’s cuddles in the early mornings. Maybe it wasn’t a Praxian thing to cuddle. Maybe it was an outsider thing. The sound of another Praxian coming makes Prowl curious and slip off the berth to investigate. He peeks out of the house to see a yellow and black sensory paneled Praxian glancing around as if lost. 

“Can I help you?” Prowl asks. The younger Praxian glances over at him and smiles before running over, more like bouncing though. How this mech reminds him of Jazz. Prowl silently groans as he thinks of Jazz being here with him instead of his own kind. 

“Yes, I was looking for you,” the Praxian smiles up at him. “I live in the cave over there and I wanted to see the new mechs who came to live here. Is your mate up? I wanted to welcome you to this cavern.”

“We aren’t moving here, it’s just a hunter’s camp for us,” Prowl frowns, the yellow and black youngling frowns a bit, sensory panels drooping. 

“Prowl, do we have a guest?” Orion Pax asks and Prowl glances over his shoulder to the red and blue mech. 

“Ooh, you have a handsome mate,” the Praxian walks around Prowl to step up to Orion Pax. “Have you two bonded yet?”

“No,” Prowl frowns and the yellow and black Praxian glances over to him.

“Lucky me!” the mech smiles and bounces over to him before grabbing his helm and planting a kiss on his lips. Sensory panels shoot up when Prowl registers what’s happening. “Knock Out, my mate is visiting his family. We aren’t sparkmates but that doesn’t mean I don’t love him. I just . . . he’s not . . . uhm . . .”

“Praxian,” Prowl supplies as the younger Praxian continues to hold his helm. The young Praxian nods. “My mate is not Praxian either, neither of ours is.”

“Really, I didn’t know there were other mechs like me,” the mech beams practically glowing with energy. The bright blue optics of the younger one flick to his sensory panels before glancing at Orion Pax. The younger mech releases Prowl before going to Orion Pax and whispering something to the taller mech. Prowl frowns when both look at him, his sensory panels droop when both smile at the same time. 

“Prowl, let’s go back inside,” Orion Pax holds out his servo.

“I’m Bumblebee by the way, and you’re Prowl and you are . . .”

“Orion Pax,” the red and blue mech smiles as Prowl takes his servo. Prowl frowns as they walk up to the berthroom and Orion Pax pulls him on the berth. 

“What are you two—“ Prowl starts when he feels Bumblebee’s servos trail over his sensory panels and gasps when Orion Pax pulls him into a kiss. “But I barely know—“

“I won’t hurt you, Prowl,” Bumblebee whispers as he drapes himself along the black and white Praxian’s back. 

 

Jazz frowns as he stands in the clearing, waiting for Prowl. This is the second orn he’s not seen Prowl. Worry grips his spark as he thinks that Prowl got caught sneaking out and is now forbidden to come see him. The guard wouldn’t keep Prowl away from him, would he? Jazz frowns when Prowl never shows as the star sets over the horizon. So much for asking Prowl if he knew where his data-pads went. He hopes Prowl didn’t get hurt and is lying somewhere bleeding out. 

 

Prowl smiles as he trails his claws over the yellow sensory panels of the Praxian. He presses light kisses over those broad sensory panels gaining a moan from the other as he onlines. 

“I like you,” Bumblebee hums as he snuggles up to Prowl’s chest. Maybe it was just a youngling thing, to cuddle in the early morning. 

“What happened to your clan?” Prowl asks quietly as Orion Pax recharges behind him. 

“They banished me because I chose Knock Out instead of them,” Bumblebee frowns. “The first few decaorns were hard and I’m so glad Knock Out was a medic. He pieced me back together so many times I forgot how much.”

“My clan doesn’t know about Jazz yet,” Prowl glances away from the younger Praxian. “Only one of my brothers do and two guards who let me sneak out know.”

“Must be nice to have a clan, it kind of makes me wish I stayed, but I love Knock Out so much, I couldn’t hurt him like that,” Bumblebee frowns, burying his face into Prowl’s neck. “It’s so sad that we can’t have any sparklings. He’s a Sire mech and we aren’t sparkmates.”

“We could form a clan, mechs like us, ones who have outsider mates,” Prowl says cupping the smaller mech’s helm. “Jazz would like to meet other Praxians who are not bent to deactivate him.”

“I’d really like to meet your Jazz, he sounds so nice,” Bumblebee smiles and pulls Prowl into a kiss. 

“He is nice,” Prowl smiles and deepens the kiss by trailing his claws over the underside of the yellow panels. 

 

Jazz growls at his room, punching the berth. How could the data-pads just disappear. Prowl had to have taken them but now Prowl is missing. It’s been three orns since seeing Prowl and worry starts to eat his spark. Maybe Prowl found a Praxian to bond with and he forgot all about him. He raises his servo to his abdomen unconsciously, only when he feels the warmth of the sparkling’s frame forming does he realize what he’s doing. 

“I’m sorry little spark that’s not even created yet, ya might not be ever created,” Jazz sighs as he plops down into the chair. He starts crying when he thinks about Prowl never coming back. Crying so much, he doesn’t even notice his Sire kneeling in front of him. 

“Jazz, what’s wrong?” Triveil asks, Jazz pouts as he looks at his Sire.

“Prowl doesn’t love me anymore,” Jazz wraps his arms around his Sire’s neck. 

“Did he tell you that?” 

“No, but it’s been three orns,” Jazz frowns. “He’s never been gone for this long.”

“I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation for why he’s not here,” Triveil smiles as he cups his creation’s helm and wipes away the Energon tears.

 

Prowl screams out, frame arching as the overload crashes through him. Bumblebee snickers as Orion Pax jump online and glares at the two mechs. Prowl laughs quietly as he recovers from the massive energy drop. He pulls Orion Pax close before pressing a kiss to his lips. 

“I should get back to my clan, they’ll worry I’ve gotten captured by the outsiders,” Prowl smiles as Bumblebee and Orion Pax both try to keep him on the berth. “I really need to leave.”

“Come back soon,” Bumblebee pouts but turns his attention to Orion Pax. Prowl shakes his helm and walks out of the cavern, sensory panels hiding but he doesn’t bother changing into his outsider disguise.


	25. Chapter 25

“Prowl where have you been?” his Carrier hugs Prowl as he steps into the small house. Prowl bites his lip and hangs his helm when his Carrier lets him go.

“I found two Praxians that I sort of like,” Prowl smiles a little as his Carrier squeals. 

“Are you going to try bonding to one?” Bluestreak asks, grabbing his arm in a hug. 

“I don’t know, they’re from a different clan and we were trying to work out where we’d live if we bonded,” Prowl says, only a half lie. They had been talking about forming their own clan for the misfits and he had been thinking about where he would live when he bonded or stayed with Jazz when they created heir sparkling. 

“Just know that you don’t have to stay in this clan, Prowl, I will be happy you found a sparkmate wherever you decide to live,” his Carrier smiles and pulls him into another hug. 

“Thanks Carrier, that means a lot,” Prowl smiles and pulls his Carrier into a hug. “Do you mind if I go back to my hopefully sparkmate?”

“Spend all the time you want with your bonded to be,” his Carrier smiles and presses his chevron against his. 

“I want to meet him!” Bluestreak yells as he leaves the house. Prowl smiles as he walks out to the surface. His outsider disguise bleeds into his frame and he walks into the village to Jazz’s estate. The guard at the gate lets him in and he walks into the large foyer, the openness still causes him some unease but he doesn’t race up the stairs like he used to. He quietly opens Jazz’s door and finds the mech lying in recharge on his berth. Prowl smiles as he quietly enters the room and ever so carefully crawls on the berth. His disguise drops and his sensory panels fold out of their hiding as he presses a kiss to Jazz’s lips. The smaller mech moans as his visor onlines and squeals. Arms wrap around his neck and for a moment he can’t breathe as Jazz holds onto him like he’ll disappear. 

“Did you miss me?” Prowl asks, smiling a little as Jazz never lets him go. The black helm nods and Jazz kisses Prowl hard. 

“I thought you left me, I thought you found a Praxian to bond with and you forgot all about me,” Jazz pouts but the pout gets consumed by Prowl’s kiss. 

“Jazz, I will never willingly bond to another Praxian, we are having a sparkling together, and I want to love you and our creation,” Prowl holds his servo over the forming sparkling frame. 

“Merge with me, then our sparkling can come here faster,” Jazz scratches at the Praxian’s chestplates. 

“I don’t trust you with my spark yet, but it is yours, I promise you that,” Prowl frowns and pulls Jazz’s servos away from his chestplates. 

“When?” Jazz whines. “There’s only a few more orns I’ll keep this frame and then we might have to wait a vorn. A vorn is so long.”

“Jazz, I will spark you even if I have to put aside my trust issue, just give me those orns,” Prowl frowns. “I want to spend time with you like it is right now a little while longer.”

“Where were you?” Jazz changes the subject as Prowl’s field turns sad. 

“I was with my clan,” Prowl smiles. “I met a mech who you’d become fast friends with.”

“Really, what’s his name?”

“Bumblebee, he’s a Praxian, younger than I am and he has an outsider mate. We were thinking of creating clan for the ‘misfits’ of Praxian society.”

“Oh,” Jazz frowns and looks away. “Will I be seeing less of you then?”

“Jazz, I cannot create a new clan unless I bond with a sparkmate or be banished from my current clan. The misfit clan is just a safe place for us. I don’t plan to be banished from my current clan, my family is there.”

“So what are we doing this orn?” Jazz asks trailing his digits over the black and white Praxian’s shoulder. 

“I am going to repay you for teaching me to read outsider language,” Prowl smiles, stealing a kiss from Jazz.

“Repay, how?” a smile spreads across Jazz’s faceplates.

“By teaching you how to grow crystals,” Prowl smiles and pulls Jazz off the berth and over to the wall window. “We need pots and ground metal flakes.”

“I’ll go get them from the basement,” Jazz disappears out the door. When Jazz comes back he carries about twenty pots stacked on top of each other with the metal shavings in them. Prowl laughs as Jazz tries to balance them. He starts setting them on the counter to help Jazz unbury himself. “So where are we going to get the crystals?”

“The easiest crystals to grow are the ones that are the parent ones you have,” Prowl says and pulls off a small piece of his crystal armor. Jazz squeaks at the action and glances up at Prowl. “It will heal in a few joor. It’s a minor piece of armor.”

Jazz watches as Prowl breaks the crystal into ten pieces and winces as he breaks off another piece of his armor. That one breaks in ten pieces. He watches as Prowl buries the first crystal and then the second and starts helping him bury the crystals in each of the pots. 

“Now you could do this with any crystal you can but since we don’t have any right now, mine will have to do,” Prowl pulls off another piece of armor. “Do you have a bowl or small container?”

“Yeah,” Jazz winces when the Praxian pulls off the piece of armor and starts searching for a bowl. He finds one clean and hands it over to Prowl. He frowns when Prowl crushes the piece of armor into a fine dust. Prowl picks up a small servoful and sprinkles it over a few of the buried crystal shards. 

“You need to sprinkle crystal dust over them at least once a decaorn, for the best result once an orn,” Prowl says as Jazz starts sprinkling the dust over other crystal shards. “They should start growing within the decaorn.”

“Wow,” Jazz looks at the pots and smiles. “I can’t wait for them to start growing. How long until they’re grown?”

“A few decaorn,” Prowl smiles as Jazz walks around the counter and into his arms. “They grow better with crystals around them, but not screaming crystals. Orion’s shop should have crystals that aren’t screaming.”

“Are you an’ he still . . . ya know . . . interfacing?” Jazz glances up at Prowl, field full of hope that the answer is no but truthful.

“We are,” Prowl rests his helm on Jazz’s helm. “You wanted the truth.”

“I did,” Jazz pouts and turns around to hug the Praxian. “When are ya gonna stop?”

“When you are sparked with our little, Ivory,” Prowl holds Jazz’s sides as he looks down at him. “Even if we don’t bond, that will be good enough bonding for me.” 

“Do you want to go in my hidey hole?” Jazz asks leading Prowl to his desk. “Maybe I could try to be whatever Orion is to you?”

“Jazz, you don’t have to try to be someone you are not, I’m only with Orion because his mate is away and he’s lonely,” Prowl frowns and follows Jazz into the hidden room. “Though I think I like you kissing my sensory panels better than him.”

“No one touches your wings again,” Jazz growls as he hugs one of Prowl’s sensory panels. Prowl's optics brighten at Jazz’s possessive behavior, he tilts his helm as he looks at the smaller mech.

“Why?” Prowl asks, confusion seeping into his field. 

“Only I touch your wings, they’re mine,” Jazz growls as he hugs the other one. 

“I thought they were mine,” Prowl frowns, but the smile wins. “I was created with them.”

“Mine,” Jazz tips his helm back. Prowl smiles as Jazz starts petting his sensory panels. 

“Okay, fine, they are yours,” Prowl smiles and lays on his front so Jazz can pet “his” sensory panels. 

“I always wanted wings,” Jazz chirps and trails kisses all along the Praxian’s wings. 

“Of course you did,” Prowl smiles as he offlines his optics. 

“Do you think our sparkling will like growing crystals?” Jazz hums against Prowl’s back. 

“If the sparkling has any Praxian coding, they will,” Prowl smiles when Jazz starts kissing along the top of his sensory panels.


	26. Chapter 26

Jazz onlines to the soft berth again, he onlines his optics and sees the black and white winged Praxian in front of his data-pad shelf. 

“So you are the one who stole my data-pads,” Jazz sits up, Firesky mewls as she onlines behind Jazz on her mountain of pillows. Prowl jumps and the data-pads in his servos clatter to the floor. 

“I . . . I didn’t know you were up . . . did I make you online?” Prowl asks as he picks up the data-pads. Jazz crawls to the edge of his berth to watch the Praxian. “I wanted to read some. I won’t take anymore.”

“Just tell me before you raid my shelf, I thought I lost them,” Jazz smiles and pulls Prowl over to him by the sensory panel. Prowl frowns a bit at his sensory panel being pulled but there isn’t any pain if he follows Jazz’s command. Jazz climbs on his back to nestle between the Praxian’s wings. “And tell me when you’re going to stay three orns away from me. It was torture.”

“I shouldn’t be spending that long away from you anymore, well, unless I get found out in my clan. They might detain me and ask me to stay or banish me. I think I would choose banishment. I want to spend the rest of my function with you.”

“Do you want to go hunting with me?” Jazz asks trailing his digits over Prowl’s shoulders. “I know I’m not the best of hunter but maybe you could teach me?”

“Only if you eat another spark chamber,” Prowl smiles and Jazz grimaces but nods as he moves off Prowl’s back. 

“I guess I could survive that,” Jazz says servo resting over the sparkling frame. “You better spark me.”

“I will, Jazz, I have, what, like three more orns,” Prowl says, cupping the mech’s faceplates. “I will.”

“You better or I might not talk to you,” Jazz crosses his arms. Prowl shakes his helm and his outsider disguise covers his crystal armor as they walk down the stairs to the main part of the Estate. “Sire, we’re going hunting.”

“Have fun,” Triveil yells from the dining room. Jazz drags Prowl out of the Estate before skidding to a stop.

“You have your bow right?” Jazz asks glancing at Prowl, Prowl nods and Jazz frowns. “I didn’t see you have it.”

Prowl shows Jazz his back and the bow separates from his armor. “Crystal weapons can form parts of armor. It gets absorbed in my armor, strengthening it and I can summon it to separate at any time I need it.”

“Really, any crystal weapon?” Jazz perks up. Prowl nods and Jazz drags Prowl to the weapons smith. The mech opens his door and looks at Jazz before closing it and opening his vender. Jazz looks around the weapons as Prowl takes a hesitant step forward. “See any you like.”

“I am not much for weapons, Jazz,” Prowl frowns but looks over the weapons any way. Two guns stand out, their black and silver crystal surface shimmer in the light. He picks one up and holds it in his servos. He doesn’t miss the surprised look on Jazz’s face. “I’ve used guns before.”

“I just thought, given your background that . . . yeah,” Jazz says as he pays for the crystal guns. 

“I had to use them when I was training to see if I could become an Enforcer when I found my bondmate,” Prowl says as he places them against his hip armor. The black and silver weapons disappear into his hips. 

“That is so cool,” Jazz nearly purrs as he reaches out to touch the Praxian’s hip. “Wait, I gotta go get something.” 

Prowl watches as Jazz goes back to the vender and buys something. He tilts his helm when Jazz comes back to him and holds out the two crystal daggers. 

“I have claws,” Prowl frowns as he takes the daggers. Jazz takes one of the daggers and puts it against Prowl’s ankle. The crystal in his armor absorbs it and Jazz places the other on the other ankle. 

“Wait here again,” Jazz says and runs back to the vender and Prowl sighs, shaking his helm as Jazz buys something else. He watches as Jazz carries two crystal swords to him and Prowl takes one of them from the small black and silver mech. He lays it against his arm and it disappears into his armor. Jazz tilts his helm and hands Prowl the other. “How are you going to get those?”

“Just wait and see,” Prowl smiles and does the same with the other. He slides his arm around Jazz’s shoulders as they walk out of the village. “Where do you want to hunt first?”

“Up by the mountain,” Jazz says, pointing to the mountains as they reach the clearing with the fountain. Prowl leads Jazz through the forest, Jazz keeps dragging Prowl over to look at various animals scurrying around them. He smiles as Jazz kneels down to see a family of petrorabbits and plays with the young ones. Soon crystal deer start moving into the area, the sparkling deer come up to Jazz and nips at his shoulders and digits. Jazz giggles as the deer start sucking on his audial fins. 

“They like you,” Prowl smiles as he rubs his claws over the other audio horn. 

“I like them, they’ve never come this close to me when I’m out with my Sire,” Jazz smiles up at Prowl. 

“Your Sire also hunts them. Praxians don’t normally hunt crystal deer unless we cannot find any other source of Energon.”

“They can smell that good?” Jazz asks, glancing up at Prowl from where he sits on the ground. 

“I can still smell the residue odor of your Sire on you,” Prowl pokes Jazz in the shoulder. “A hunter’s stench is hard to get rid of. I myself have to go out hunting every time I visit your estate.”

“You could always stay with me,” Jazz smiles and stands as the deer runs back over to his creator. 

“And make the guards worry I have been stripped of my armor?” Prowl asks leaning closer to Jazz’s helm. “You would have a hunting party of well-trained guards bursting in your village.”

“I didn’t know you were that important,” Jazz frowns and looks at Prowl. “Are you like a prince of Praxians or something?”

“Nothing of the sort, we are so few of numbers every mech counts,” Prowl pulls Jazz into a kiss. “Especially Carriers.”

Jazz places his servos over his abdomen, right over the developing sparkling’s frame. “Why don’t Praxians find outsider Carriers?”

“Where would we find them? Would we be able to care for them? You have clearly shown that our customs are not the same as yours.”

Jazz shutters as Prowl leads him up the path to the mountain. Prowl slows as they reach the mountain base, pulling Jazz to the side and hiding behind the rock side, Jazz starts to say something when Prowl puts his servo over the other’s mouth. Two crystal Praxians step into view, they crouch as they walk and Jazz stills in front of Prowl as they grow near. Prowl presses Jazz against the rock, Jazz trembles as Prowl bares his fangs and notices the Praxians are looking over at them. Jazz feels the Praxian’s fangs along his neck. Energon drips down Jazz’s chest and Prowl’s chin, the Praxians move closer slowly. Prowl growls at them and they step back and Jazz feels Prowl’s fangs slide over his Energon cables. Jazz realizes that Prowl’s wings are out and starts to reach for them, of course the servo hidden by Prowl’s frame from the Praxians. Prowl grabs his wrist and growls.

Jazz falls to the ground covered in Energon as Prowl lunges for the Praxians who scream and run away. Jazz rubs his helm before running his servos over his neck for any injuries. Prowl turns back to him, Energon still running down his chin. “You won’t find anything.” 

Jazz glances up at Prowl, helm tilted to the side. “Why not?”

“It’s my Energon covering you, not yours,” Prowl says as the Energon finally stops running. “I cut the top of my mouth to make it look like I was attacking you.” 

“Can we keep going, in case they come back?” Jazz shutters and Prowl takes his servo as the outsider disguise comes back and the Energon disappears from his frame. “And clean me up?”

“There is a pond on the landing we are going to,” Prowl smiles and pulls Jazz on his back before digging his claws into the side of the rock and climbing up the side of the mountain. Prowl glances at Jazz when they reach the landing, the smaller mech’s visor is offline. Prowl laughs and tips Jazz’s chin up to press a kiss to the other mech’s lips. “You can online your optics now.”

The sapphire blue visor brightens and Jazz smiles up at him, the smaller mech glances around and his jaw drops at their surroundings. A small pond sits a few pedes from them, the entire landing is shrouded in crystal trees making rainbows on the ground and on the their frames. Prowl’s outsider disguise bleeds out of his frame, his sensory wings fold out of his back as he walks to the wall of the mountain. Jazz follows Prowl and sees a nest in a crevice of the mountain side. A crystal bird peeks out of the hole and Jazz freezes in his steps. Prowl holds out his servo for the lillieth and Jazz holds back his gasp as the bird hops onto Prowl’s servo. Jazz takes his data-pad and starts drawing as Prowl looks in the hole at the nest. 

“Come over here,” Prowl waves Jazz over with his free servo. Jazz sets down his data-pad and comes over to Prowl, watching as the larger bird pecks at Prowl’s helm. Prowl offers his servo and Jazz tilts his helm. “Pet her, she won’t mind if you’re gentle with her.”

“Really?” Jazz says as he reaches out to pet the lillieth. “She’s so pretty.”

“She is,” Prowl smiles and pets the bird under her beak. The lillieth sings as Prowl pets her. The bird chirps and hops onto Jazz’s arm, Jazz jumps before stiffening like a statue and Prowl smirks slightly at the other’s reaction. “They have magnetic claws, you need not fear her falling off your frame.”

Jazz relaxes as the lillieth waddles over his shoulders and hops up onto his helm. Prowl smiles and finds a small patch of starlight shining through the trees of their small alcove and lays on his front. The pale colors bleed out of his frame to allow his crystalline armor to shimmer in the starlight. The rainbows from the crystal trees and the rainbows from his nearly half clear wings cast brilliant colored patterns in a halo around him. Jazz’s jaw drops as he stares at the Praxian, the gold optics offline and his systems sound as though they are in recharge. A slight purr fills the landing before Jazz is jarred out of his daze with a crystal beak knocking on his sensitive audial horn. 

The lillieth launches off his frame causing him to stagger back a little, how could such a small creature make such a large take off force. The crystal bird lands on the lower part of Prowl’s back and curls up for her own recharge. Jazz watches as Prowl’s wings flutter when the bird lands on him. He sneaks over to the place where Prowl got the bird and sees a crevice filled with eleven eggs but one of the eggs is away from the others. He glances over his shoulder at the recharging Praxian and Lillieth before taking the lonely egg and putting it in his subspace. 

Jazz walks over to Prowl and snuggles close to him. The black and white crystal arm, trimmed in gold slides around him and pulls him close before he falls into recharge. 

 

Prowl onlines to a low growl, a growl not from another animal in warning but the growl of a hungry tank. He pushes himself up to sit in the moonlight, gaze falling on Jazz’s recharging form. The growl comes again and Jazz moans pitifully, a nearly whimper and sniffle follow the moan. Prowl smiles a little before walking to the edge of the cliff and making his way down. His crystal armor pales as he moves around the hunter groups of outsiders camped out in the forest. Prowl comes up to a herd of Crystalequines recharging. The scent of an older Carrier equine comes to him and he makes his way to it. Slowly he reaches the edge of the herd, carefully making sure he doesn’t alert any of them of his presence. A pede from the Carrier, Prowl makes his move, one swift swipe of his claw to the Crystalequine’s neck and the large creature collapses to the ground. Prowl crouches as the surrounding equines online and glance around for the intruder. His armor takes on the color of them and he pretends to look like one of their young as they fall back into recharge without finding any danger. 

Prowl grabs the Crystalequine’s frame and pulls it out of the herd, every so often stopping to let the herd fall back to recharge. He drags it through the forest, passing by the camps, slowing every time one of the mechs says he thinks he heard something. He waits until the others say the mech’s hearing things. He reaches the mountain side before hefting the large creature up on his back and shoulders. His sensory panels help the creature stay on his back, Prowl begins to climb but the equine starts slipping down his back and his sensory panels break into smaller panels, each moving to hold the creature on his back. Longer panels separate along his legs that end in a joint under his regular sensory panels. He continues when the creature is stable and isn’t at risk to fall. He climbs over the edge of the cliff as one of the moons start to set. He drops the Crystalequine on the ground before kneeling down to slit it open with his claws. Jazz’s moan and whimper-cry comes again and Prowl pulls out the Energon tank from the equine and takes the gestation chamber to Jazz’s side. 

Prowl nudges Jazz online, smiling fondly as the smaller mech stretches and rubs under his visor. Jazz looks up at him before gaging. Prowl kneels down beside him with a smile. 

“You promised before we left,” Prowl says, leaning in and pressings a light kiss to Jazz’s pouting lips. “Besides you’re hungry.”

“I did and I am,” Jazz continues to pout. Prowl hands him the parts before turning around to the equine. He laughs quietly when he hears Jazz’s gag and starts gutting the creature, taking some of it for him and setting the rest aside. Once he has the frame cleaned out he starts licking the Energon from his claws, optics dim as he does. “You kind of act like a cybercat, did you know?”

“I have never met a cybercat,” Prowl frowns but continues to lick his claws. Jazz’s jaw drops and he jumps over to the Praxian and falls down to his knees. 

“You’ve never seen a cybercat?” Jazz asks and shakes his helm. “They’re the most adorable creature ever, well besides Firesky. They purr and cuddle when they’re happy or if you pet them right.”

“Don’t even think about petting me,” Prowl glares at Jazz’s raised servo, the pout forms on the other’s face. “I am not a pet.” 

“Fine,” Jazz’s shoulders drop and glances at the Crystalequine. “Could you at least help me separate the crystals from the frame?”

Prowl winces and glances at the crystal. Praxians normally just let the frame decompose to help other crystal plants grow. He watches as Jazz starts cutting the crystal scale like skin off before his tanks churn and he backs away. 

“I can’t,” Prowl looks away and walks to the small pond. Small crystal fish swim under the surface. His field fills with sadness as he thinks about their differing culture. How could he think they would even work together in a society? What would happen when they have a sparkling? Would the sparkling upgrade in the outsider village or a village close to the Praxian culture? Would the outsider sparkling have to hunt Praxians, would he care that his Sire was a Praxian? He glances at his claws before looking at his reflection. How could any outsider want to keep him around, let alone Jazz? The one who walked into the fountain clearing when he was consuming one of the outsider’s kind. Prowl feels Jazz’s field brush against his and he doesn’t even bother to look up as the outsider kneels down to where he sits. 

“I’m done getting the crystals off if you want to do something else with it,” Jazz places his servo on Prowl’s thigh. “What’s wrong?”

“Where would our sparkling upgrade?” Prowl asks glancing at Jazz’s abdomen. “Would our sparkling hunt Praxians like the outsiders?”

“Prowler,” Jazz frowns and whines before cupping the Praxian’s face. “Don’t you think I would be a better carrier than that? Our sparkling will upgrade and learn that Praxians and outsiders should be friends. I’m actually looking into some cottages on the outskirts of the outsider villages for when we have our sparkling.”

“A cottage,” Prowl frowns slightly, an outsider constructed home. 

“We should get back before it gets light,” Jazz says as the second moon starts to set. “My Sire wanted me to help him . . . do something.”

“I should get back to my family as well,” Prowl pulls away slightly from Jazz. “I will not see you next orn, it’s . . . it’s our staged outsider attack drill. The cavern will be on lock down, no one will be able to get in or out. The council goes around making sure every Praxian is accounted for. It also forms as a census for our population.” 

“Oh,” Jazz frowns a little as Prowl gets up and drags the rest of the frame of the equine to the edges and pushes it off. Jazz comes to stand beside him to watch it tumble down the mountain side. “Prowler? We’re still good, right?”

“Why are we not?” Prowl asks and glances at the smaller mech. 

“You’re field is just . . . off,” Jazz frowns and pouts a little. “You’re a little distant too.”

“I just have a lot on my processor,” Prowl frowns before turning to Jazz and cupping the outsider’s helm. He presses a kiss to the outsider’s lips, servos sliding down his shoulders and resting on his sides.


	27. Chapter 27

Prowl walks into the tunnel system after escorting Jazz back to the village. The guard post is quiet and Prowl’s armor turns black as his spark pulses with worry. Out of the darkness comes a strong servo, he gets pressed against the wall and winces as the stone scrapes against his hidden panels. Dim blue optics bore into his as the post light flickers on. Prowl flinches as the large red and white mech that looks so much like Ratchet growls down at him. He tries to reach the ground with his pedes but the larger mech has him too far off the ground. 

“What do we have here, a little truant Praxian?” the mech’s rough voice chills the Energon in Prowl’s cables. “Do you know what the council does to the likes of you?”

“Sire, let him go, he’s one of the few Praxians who can actually leave the caverns,” Ratchet’s voice comes from the darkness and the smaller red and white mech steps into the light of the guard post. 

“You allow Praxians to sneak out of your post, what kind of guard are you?” the mech growls, still holding Prowl off the ground. 

“He would just find another way, why not have him go through by the guard post and know when he leaves and when he comes back?” Ratchet frowns. “I can take back my post, Guard Pharma.”

“You should be more careful, Guard Ratchet,” Pharma growls and drops Prowl, Prowl crashes to the ground and rubs his helm as the other guard leaves. Ratchet kneels beside Prowl and helps him stand. 

“My Sire and I do not always have the same ideals,” Ratchet frowns as Prowl leans on him. 

“I can tell that,” Prowl frowns and winces when the guard’s servo brushes against his scraped sensory panel. “Why did he have to be here?”

“The council learned of Ironhide and my creation being deactivated,” Ratchet frowns. “We had to give his frame up to them because of the law.” 

“I’m sorry,” Prowl frowns but Ratchet lifts his chin. 

“Don’t be, Armortide brought us you,” Ratchet smiles and presses his helm against Prowl’s. “Ironhide is helping the council . . . with Armortide’s frame.”

Prowl wraps his arms around the guard, the other’s field full of sadness and grief. 

“So how are things with Jazz?” Ratchet smiles as he resumes his post and Prowl leans on the wall of the tunnel. Prowl tells him about Jazz, hesitating at telling Ratchet about the forming sparkling frame. Ratchet picks up on his hesitancy. “Prowl, you can tell me anything and it will stay between you, Ironhide and me.” 

“We . . . will be expecting a sparkling in a couple orns,” Prowl smiles nearly jumping in his place. 

“You two are bonded?” Ratchet frowns and looks over the Praxian’s frame. 

“No, uhm, he’ll be carrying, the frame is already forming, it just needs a spark from a spark merge,” Prowl winces at Ratchet’s frown. 

“I understand you love this outsider, but even you must know the risk of baring your spark to the Hunter’s creation. That kind of coding isn’t recessive. He will turn on you, bonded or not, sparkling or not. Every Praxian who has taken an outsider as a lover has been deactivated. I can’t lose you.”

“Ratchet, he will not hurt me, he wants the sparkling as much as I do. He is completely different from any outsider.”

“When do you plan on merging with him?” 

“Why do you want to know?” Prowl crosses his arms. “Are you going to be there to make sure he’s not going to deactivate me?”

“Someone needs to keep you on the ground,” Ratchet crosses his arms. “At least do it away from his Sire. Jazz may not want to deactivate you but I’ve see the look in his Sire’s optics when you were injured.”

“Ratchet, you don’t know them like I do, he won’t harm me either,” Prowl puts his servo on the guard’s shoulder. He walks back to his home when someone grabs his arm. He glances at the black and orange mech looking at the ground. “Hallows?”

“I wanted to thank you for saving my life,” Hallows glances up at him. Those once proud sensory panels are no longer there. “If you weren’t there, I would have been deactivated. I know I haven’t been the nicest mech to you but do you think we could be friends at least.”

“We could be friends,” Prowl smiles holding out his servo. The orange servo slides into his white one.

“Thanks,” Hallows smiles and pulls Prowl into a hug. “If you ever need anything, don’t hesitate to ask me.”

“I will keep that in mind,” Prowl nods and turns to his home. 

“Tell your . . . um . . . friend that I said thanks,” Hallows says and walks away. Prowl smiles to himself before walking into the house and being tackled by Bluestreak. 

“You were gone so long this time,” Bluestreak says hugging him tightly. 

“I was with my sparkmate,” Prowl smiles. 

“Are you going to bond and finally bring him for us to meet?” Bluestreak pouts at him and Prowl rolls his optics. 

“I am planning on asking him to bond in two orns,” Prowl smiles and Bluestreak squeals making Smokescreen look up from the chairs in the sitting room. 

“You have to be joking,” Smokescreen frowns, Prowl shakes his helm and Smokescreen mutters under his vents. 

“I can’t wait until two orns, you are bringing him after he says yes, right?”

 

Prowl rubs his chestplates as he lies on the berth. He frowns and sits up to glance at Bluestreak’s recharging form. Why was it getting more and more difficult to spend time away from Jazz? He gets up and notices the lights are off outside and drops his black visor before going down the stairs. A knock comes at the door and Prowl jumps and moves back a couple steps as his Sire answers the door. Prowl peeks around the corner to see one of the council members standing in the doorway as his Sire tells him who is in the house. Once the council mech leaves and his Sire goes back to his berthroom, Prowl slips out of the house to walk the darkened streets. He watches the off shift guards making their way door to door and spots Ironhide. 

“Ironhide,” Prowl says quietly as he steps up to the mech. “What’s going on?” 

“One of the sparklings wandered off, his Carrier has no idea where he went,” Ironhide frowns. “You should be in your house.”

“I hate being cooped up, do you need help?” Prowl asks. “Maybe he ventured out to the surface. I could go look for him.”

“Pray to Primus he didn’t venture out there,” Ironhide says, field filling with dread. “Here.”

Prowl takes the small crystal amulet with Ironhide’s glyph on it. “Why are you giving me this?”

“If a guard finds you on the surface looking for the sparkling, hand this to him and he’ll know I sent you up there.”

“Thanks,” Prowl makes his way to the tunnel to the surface. He moves through the forest following the scent of the small Praxian. 

 

Jazz sighs as he follows his Sire around on their “hunt”. His crossbow hangs limply in his servo by his side. Pedes dragging and turning up the soft dust of the path, Jazz lags behind his Sire. As his Sire walks farther ahead Jazz slows his pace but keeps his Sire in view in case something decides to attack him. A small noise catches his attention and he walks over to a bush. A whimper comes from the crystal bush and Jazz pulls back the crystal leaves to see a small sensory paneled Praxian sparkling trembling. 

“Come out little sparkling,” Jazz holds out his servo to the sparkling who shakes his helm. “I won’t hurt you. If you trust me a little I’ll take you to my friend. He’s a Praxian also. He’ll make sure you get back to your creators.”

“Outsider harm,” the sparkling pouts and shakes his helm. Jazz frowns and pulls out a small figurine of his Carrier. 

“My friend made this for me, this is a crystal figurine of my carrier,” Jazz says and hands the figurine to the Praxian. “Be careful with it. It means a lot to me.”

“What is your friend’s name?” the sparkling asks quietly holding the crystal figurine close to his chest. 

“Well . . . you have to promise you won’t tell anyone else who he is. If he’s found out then I won’t be able to see him again.”

“I promise,” the sparkling says. 

“His name is Prowl,” Jazz smiles with his servo still out for the sparkling. 

“Prowl, I know Prowl. He plays hide and seek with me in the caverns. You’re friends with Prowl.”

“Yes, do you trust me enough to take you to him?” Jazz smiles, the sparkling nods a little but hesitates.

“Is the mean Hunter gone?” the sparkling asks. 

“You mean . . . yeah, he’s gone, will you come with me to meet Prowl?” Jazz asks and holds out his servo for the sparkling. The sparkling nods and wiggles out of his hiding spot with the crystal figurine close to his chest. Jazz picks up the small crystal Praxian, cradling him to his chest as he makes his way to the fountain clearing. The sparkling curls up to his chestplates, small sensory panels fluttering and gently scraping over his arms as he walks through the forest. 

 

Prowl frowns as he follows the path of the sparkling's scent to the path the hunters frequent. He growls quietly when the scents merge. He catches a distinct scent of someone he knows well and follows the path. He comes into the fountain clearing to see Jazz sitting on the fountain and the scent of the sparkling the strongest there. 

“Jazz,” Prowl says, growl threatening to surface as he steps closer to the outsider. Jazz jumps up off the fountain wall and the sparkling peeks out of the water. 

“I found this little one hiding in the forest and thought you’d be looking for him,” Jazz smiles, Prowl grabs Jazz’s chin and pulls the smaller mech close to his frame before kissing him deeply. He cups Jazz’s helm before his servo rests over the smaller mech’s spark. When Prowl steps away from Jazz, the smaller mech sways where he stands. Prowl kneels beside the sparkling, checking over his frame for any injuries and finds none. 

“Where did you get that?” Prowl asks when he notices the crystal figurine in the sparklings servos. 

“Jazz let me hold it until you came here,” the sparkling says and holds the figurine out to Jazz. Prowl smiles as Jazz takes the figurine back before he growls when the scent of a hunter comes. 

“There is a hunter coming,” Prowl growls and scoops up the sparkling. 

“Hide in the fountain,” Jazz pushes Prowl to the fountain and Prowl covers the sparkling’s mouth as his armor turns blue to hide better. Triveil steps into the clearing with another hunter.

“There you are,” Triveil says and walks up to Jazz. “I thought something attacked you.”

“Nope, I just got lost and thought you’d find me better here,” Jazz smiles. Prowl holds the sparkling close as the other hunter comes closer to the fountain. 

“Have you seen any Praxians?” the other hunter asks Jazz who shakes his helm. “I could have sworn that there was a Praxian here before we fully entered the clearing.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jazz turns his helm away. 

“Jazz, if there is a Praxian here and you are hiding him you need to know the dangers they pose,” Triveil frowns at Jazz. Prowl frowns and sets the sparkling on the bottom of the fountain. 

“I need to do something, remain here and silent, alright?” Prowl whispers to the sparkling who nods before Prowl lunges out of the fountain. Jazz jumps and screams while Triveil fumbles with his gun. The other hunter cries out as his Energon line is slashed. Prowl growls and lunges for Triveil.

“Don’t hurt him!” Jazz screams, Prowl tackles Triveil before biting one of the less important Energon lines. Jazz scrambles over to them and tries to pull Prowl from his Sire. Prowl pushes Jazz away before standing with Energon dripping from his mouth. Jazz stares in horror at him and starts to back away. Triveil coughs before sitting up and rubbing his neck. 

“Get him Prowl!” the sparkling yells and points to Triveil. “Finish the hunter!” 

“Pick your battles sparkling,” Prowl says before scooping him up and leaving the clearing. 

 

“Did Prowl just have a sparkling?” Triveil asks as he checks the downed hunter to find he’s still functioning. Jazz touches the Energon dripping down his Sire’s neck.

“Are you okay?” Jazz asks looking to his Carrier. The Energon starts running down his Sire’s chest. 

“Yes, he didn’t hit a major Energon line. What came over him? Who was that sparkling?”

“He was protecting the sparkling, the little guy got lost. I . . . kinda found him and brought him here.”

“I can’t believe he attacked me,” Triveil sakes his helm as he stands. 

“He probably didn’t think,” Jazz frowns and looks at the ground. 

“I want you to be careful around him, you can’t forget what he is,” Triveil cups Jazz’s faceplates. “I know you love him. Please be careful around him.”

“Sire, we are going to have a sparkling together, he’s not going to hurt me,” Jazz puts his fists on his hips. “He’s more afraid of us than we should be of him.”

 

Prowl carries the sparkling on his hip back to the tunnels. 

“You know you can’t go to the surface like that,” Prowl frowns down at the sparkling. 

“I just wanted to see it,” the sparkling pouts. “I didn’t know it was so big and so open.”

“Please keep this experience in mind when you think about going back up to the surface. If Jazz hadn’t found you some other hunter would have and they wouldn’t hesitate to hurt you.” 

“Jazz is really nice, is that why you like him?” the sparkling asks clutching onto Prowl’s chestplates.

“Yes, but you cannot tell anyone about Jazz. If they knew about Jazz and me, they wouldn’t let me see him again.” 

“I won’t tell anyone,” the sparkling smiles as they descend into the caverns. They pass by the guard post quietly and Prowl carries him to Ironhide’s house. The black guard answers the door and looks shocked at Prowl. 

“You found him . . . on the surface,” Ironhide frowns and glares at the sparkling. “I’ll make sure he gets home and everyone gets word he’s safe.” 

Prowl nods and transfers the sparkling over to the guard.


	28. Chapter 28

Prowl slips into Jazz’s room as the other recharges, he stands at the door watching the other recharge before moving to the cabinets and looking through the crystal shards Jazz collected. Most of them scream at him and he closes the drawers before it gets too much to handle. He opens one of the cabinets to find the spark shields lying in the deep drawer. He finds one that sounds like his creators; he freezes as it reacts to his spark pulse. The etchings on the shield shimmer under his claws as he traces his family glyph “Prais”. This shield must be one of his siblings. He glances around and finds a small basket sitting empty near the counter and places the spark shield in it carefully. He turns back to the drawer and finds another which resonates with his spark. Servos shake as he sets the crystal in the basket; another one slides from his servo and into the basket. He glances at Jazz to make sure the other is still in recharge as he starts to pile the shards into their families. 

The loud, screeching hums of the spark shields slowly raises the pain in his helm, the longer he stands them the more the pain spreads through his frame. He finally finishes sorting the drawer before he opens another drawer to find even more shields. Groaning he falls on his aft and leans back on the leg of the table, sensory panels drooping on his back as he rubs his helm to relieve the pain, he offlines his optics. 

“What are you doing?” Jazz asks, Prowl onlines his optics and glances to his left to see the smaller mech looking at the small piles of shields. Some piles are larger than others and one pile is the largest with twenty shields in a basket. “Why are they all in piles?” 

“They are in their families,” Prowl says shakily, voice quivering as his crystal armor takes on a shattered appearance. 

“Your armor!” Jazz cries as he touches Prowl’s arm. 

“It’s nothing,” Prowl shrugs Jazz’s black servo off and crawls over to the basket. “These are the spark shields that belonged to my family members. Most of them are my siblings I never met.”

“I’m sorry,” Jazz pouts and lays his servo on Prowl’s shoulder. 

“I would like to take these back to the surviving family members, it would mean a lot to them.”

“I could help you take them back,” Jazz perks up, Prowl frowns as he looks at the outsider. 

“Thank you for the offer but it would be best if I take them back myself. They would only see you as an outsider.”

“Okay, well I can help you take them to the fountain,” Jazz smiles. “Then you can take them where ever.”

“Thank you,” Prowl says, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to Jazz’s lips. “Thank you for everything, for saving the sparkling. It means a lot to me.”

“You’re welcome,” Jazz wraps his arms around Prowl. He starts by putting the basket in his subspace. Prowl stares at Jazz.

“I still can’t see how you just make things disappear and place it in a storage,” Prowl shakes his helm as Jazz finds boxes and baskets to put the other piles in. 

“Do you think we could go exploring the forest?” Jazz asks as he finishes putting the shields in his subspace. “I wouldn’t mind exploring the forest with my big, tough bodyguard.”

“Right, you need a bodyguard, most predators out there would overlook you before wasting their energy,” Prowl slides his servo in Jazz’s, claws scraping lightly over the other’s digits. They descend down the stairs, Prowl meets Thunderfange’s gaze as Triveil and Thunderfange walk into the house. 

“Are you going out hunting?” Triveil asks as they step off the staircase. “Rainfall made some Energon treats and biscuits. You could take them with you to snack on.”

“It would be amazing to have a picnic,” Jazz gasps and wraps his arms around Prowl’s. “Do you think Rainfall could make us a picnic meal?”

“I’m sure she would,” Triveil smiles and Jazz breaks away from the black and purple Praxian in disguise to fly into the kitchen. A scream of surprise comes from the kitchen and Triveil chuckles. 

“Could you tell Jazz that I will be in Orion’s shop?” Prowl asks and Triveil nods when Jazz’s squeal comes. “Thank you.”

Prowl shakes his helm with a small smile on his faceplates as he leaves the estate and crosses the street. The bell chimes overhead as he enters the shop. Orion Pax glances up as he walks up to the counter. White claws trail along the marble countertops before he stands in front of the red and blue mech. 

“I have come to tell you that I cannot continue our relationship the way it has been,” Prowl looks up at the older Praxian. “I plan to spark Jazz in the near future and, though we may not bond, it will be bond enough for me to solely give him my attention like any Praxian bonded would. I hope you can understand that.” 

“I can,” Orion Pax smiles lightly and cups Prowl’s faceplates. “May I ask one favor of you before you leave?”

“Anything but bond,” Prowl smiles, trailing his claws up the other’s side. 

“May I feel your spark sing for mine?” Orion Pax asks, Prowl shudders as the blue digit runs down his chest plate seam. 

“Yes,” Prowl says and hops up on the counter to sit as Orion Pax stands in front of him. Chestplates part slowly, the spark shields brighten as they come close. Orion Pax hums quietly before kissing Prowl. Prowl rests his servos on Orion Pax’s shoulders as their spark shields touch. Orion Pax trails his blunt digits along his shoulders before they separate. “I should get back before Jazz walks in on us.”

Orion Pax nods, Prowl leans up to kiss Orion Pax one last time before turning to the door and leaving. Prowl steps out into the star shining light cycle to see Jazz hefting a large basket as he walks down the path from the Estate. 

“Do you need help with that?” Prowl asks sliding his claws along Jazz’s shoulders and taking the basket from the smaller mech. “What did you have Rainfall put in this? Our Energon for the whole decaorn?”

“You were with Orion,” Jazz frowns and looks at the darkened windows of Orion Pax’s shop. “You must not have interfaced, unless Praxians interface quick.”

“I just had to tell him something,” Prowl smiles. “You don’t need to worry, you have my whole, undivided attention for the whole orn.”

“I want it for life,” Jazz pouts but wraps his arms around Prowl’s arm as they make their way up the path to the fountain. Once they reach the clearing Jazz starts unloading the crystal shields and places the boxes and baskets with in the veil of the water. Prowl smiles as he watches the black and silver mech make sure they are hidden enough. The light shines over the silver pieces of the other’s frame like water cascading down a mountain cliff. The black streams along the silver like middark cycle rivers over the ground. Spark pulsing hard in his chest, hope surrounds his spark that this mech, this outsider is his sparkmate and that they can know the love between bondmates. Jazz turns around to sit on the edge of the fountain and Prowl smiles at him before joining him on the ledge. 

“Are we having our picnic now or are we going to wait?” Prowl asks, leaning closer, close enough to press a light kiss against Jazz’s lips. 

“Don’t tempt me for something else,” Jazz smiles. “I thought we could explore a little bit before eating. I could put the basket in my subspace now if you don’t want to carry it around anymore.”

“Which way do you want to start exploring first?” Prowl asks. 

“Uhm, that way,” Jazz points toward the way Prowl normally leaves toward. “Ya always go that way and I’ve never been in that part of the forest.”

“There are cyberwolves and Arcitheryum dens and caves around there,” Prowl frowns as he follows Jazz through the forest along a path long since faded from use. The path splits and Jazz walks down the path toward the Praxian cavern but they come to a fork in the path and Prowl hopes that Jazz doesn’t take the path to the left. He sighs quietly when Jazz takes the right path and heads down to the small creek and waterfall that supplies their cavern with the stream through it.  
-  
Prowl smiles lightly as Jazz takes the time to look around the forest rather than sticking to the path and noticing the signs of the Praxian guard’s paths. It wouldn’t do for Jazz to stumble upon their cavern, not that he didn’t trust the outsider to not harm him or his family. The Praxians wouldn’t like an outsider, let alone the creation of the main hunter of Praxus, to learn where they live. 

“Are we getting close to where you live?” Jazz asks as he finds the stream and waterfall before climbing up on the flat stone edge and sitting down and taking out their picnic basket. 

“I don’t live far from here,” Prowl says quietly as he joins Jazz on the ledge and watches the mech pull out Energon confections and Energon made food that he’s never seen before. How could mechs create Energon in so widely of variations? Who ever thought of creating all of it in the first place? Is this what Jazz normally consumed and if so would he want it when they bonded or lived together? Was he expected to fix all of this? “How does Rainfall make all this stuff?”

“She likes making Energon stuff,” Jazz smiles and holds out one of the sprinkled Energon roll. “These are my favorite.”

“Your customs are so strange,” Prowl shakes his helm and takes the softened Energon roll with the sparkling Energon shards over the top. “How do I even start eating this?”

“Just take a bite out of it,” Jazz smiles and takes a large bite out of his roll. Prowl cautiously takes a bite out of the roll, the Energon practically melts in his mouth and the remaining part in his servo is squished down a bit where he bit. “Do you like it?”

“It’s not like anything I tasted before,” Prowl says and picks up another piece of Energon. “I never knew Energon could be so varied.”

“Beats eating mech’s processors,” Jazz smiles and pops another Energon roll in his mouth. 

“These are less saturated in needed materials like mech processors,” Prowl smiles slightly as he takes another bite out of the roll. Jazz hands Prowl another Energon treat which Prowl remembers from the time he stayed. “Do you always eat so many different Energon treats?”

“Yup,” Jazz smiles and scoots over so he can lean back on Prowl. Prowl smiles lightly as Jazz leans back on him. 

 

Prowl onlines with Jazz curled up in front of him, after their picnic Jazz fell into recharge and Prowl couldn’t move because the smaller mech was on him. He smiles down at the silver and black mech, he trails his claws over the other’s faceplates, careful to not make him online. Jazz onlines, stretching out as he does. 

“We should go exploring more,” Jazz smiles up at Prowl and pulls Prowl up as he stands. Prowl smiles as Jazz pulls him along down the path. He frowns as they near the path he takes to the cavern. His frown deepens as he follows Jazz toward the cavern entrance. “I wonder what’s in there.”

Prowl’s spark freezes as Jazz steps up to the entrance of the tunnel. “There might be an Arcitheryum living in there. It might be its home. You wouldn’t want to online one.”

“No,” Jazz shudders at the thought of running into another one of the cyberbears. “Don’t want to do that.”

Prowl sighs quietly as they walk away from the entrance of the tunnels. Ratchet is probably on high alert hearing an outsider voice at the entrance. He thinks about going back and telling Ratchet that it was just him and Jazz but then Jazz would wonder where he went. The sounds of another group of mechs catches his audios and he makes sure that his outsider disguise is up as the outsider hunters step onto the path a few mechanometers, about nine pedes, in front of them. Jazz glances back at him before turning back to face the hunters.

“Did you just come from that way?” one of the hunters asks pointing to the path they’re on.

“Yep,” Jazz says. 

“The second part of our hunting party just said that they deactivated a cyberbear in that area. You guys are lucky you didn’t come up on it.”

“Yes, very lucky,” Prowl frowns slightly as he feels Jazz’s field turn curious. The hunters continue on their way and Jazz turns to face Prowl.

“We can go back, come on,” Jazz grabs his servo and runs back to the cave. Prowl pulls Jazz to a stop just a few pedes from it. 

“There might be cyberwolves in there,” Prowl frowns as he holds Jazz back. Jazz glares at him before smiling innocently and stepping up to him. Jazz’s black servos press lightly on his chest.

“Wouldn’t you protect me?” Jazz pouts up at him, servos sliding up to his shoulder and neck. 

“If I can’t see in the dark, I will be little use in fighting a predator,” Prowl frowns at the pout that seems to burrow itself in his spark and he feels his spark falter and cave a little. 

Jazz’s faceplates scrunch up a little before he opens his mouth, “then where do you live?”

Prowl sighs, optics offlining and his bows his helm, “you must promise me you will not tell your Sire or any other living creature. Please promise me.”

“Prowler,” Jazz says leaning up to press a kiss to the Praxian’s lips. “I promise not to tell anyone. You know I would never hurt you or your family. You know where I live you’ve been in my home. You didn’t deactivate me or my Sire. I won’t hurt your family. I know I might not be able to meet them and I get that. I just want to see where you call home.”

“Stay close to me and be quiet,” Prowl cups Jazz’s helm before taking his servo and leading Jazz toward the tunnel. He glances back to see the blue light from his visor. “Could you turn off your visor?”

“Yeah,” Jazz whispers and his visor goes dark. Prowl tightens his grip on Jazz’s servo and leads him down the long tunnel. His armor turns to his original crystal armor and his sensory panels fold out. He feels a servo brush over one of his sensory panels and he glances over his shoulder to see Jazz’s visor still off and he frowns. How could the outsider know his sensory panels are out? Prowl slows as he gets to the part of the tunnel with the guard post. The dim light shines but they stay in the shadows as they move around Ratchet. 

“Do you want to go see the fossil in the wall first?” Prowl asks as he pulls Jazz to his side. Jazz looks right at him and nods. “Can you . . . can you see in here?”

Of course this part of the cavern isn’t as dark as the tunnels, but Jazz still shouldn’t be able to see that clearly in dim lighting of the crystal posts lining the streets. 

“I can see perfectly fine,” Jazz whispers. “My visor lets me see in the dark.”

“Oh,” Prowl winces and bites his glossa. “I was unaware outsiders could see in the dark. The darkness is supposed to be our defense.”

“I bet my Sire couldn’t see down here, I can only because I have a visor,” Jazz smiles. “Not many mechs have visors, especially in Praxus.”

“We should keep moving, the guards on their off shift sometimes patrol the streets and there are always the Enforcers around,” Prowl says taking Jazz down the first row of houses. “There should not be anyone on the path I am taking you on, at least no Enforcers.”

“How do you know the Enforcer schedule?” Jazz asks quietly as he stays close to Prowl. 

“I am supposed to be an Enforcer when I bond with my sparkmate,” Prowl frowns slightly as he passes by four houses and takes the small alley way between the houses. He takes Jazz down the next street and passes five houses before coming to the large wall in a considerably darker portion of the cavern. The street light poles go on for many more hics before darkness consumes them.

“This is a very big cavern, I never knew all this was under our pedes,” Jazz looks around as Prowl pulls him along the wall with the fossil. The stream runs nearby and Jazz stops in his tracks as he stares at the wall. “That is a huge fossil. I’ve never seen one this big.”

“You wanted to know where I cleaned my armor,” Prowl says and motions to the stream where other Praxians face away from them as the wash their armor. “We should get to my house before my family gets back from their work and events.”

“These are your houses? They looks so small.”

“They are considerably smaller than your home,” Prowl says as Jazz glances at the small houses as they pass by them. The road they are on curves and Jazz sees the tunnel that led them down here over the tops of the houses. Prowl leads him to the second house on the row in front of them. From the front it looks two story but the ground behind the house raises and seems to engulf the house. Prowl opens the door and pulls Jazz in. Once inside Prowl sighs and leans back on the metal carved out wall. “No one should be home . . . no one’s home. You can explore, they shouldn’t come back until a joor.”

Prowl follows Jazz into the sitting room and watches the smaller mech walk around the fifteen pede by twelve pede room filled with four chairs and a table. The curtains are drawn and Jazz pulls one of them back a little to look out the window.

“It’s not as fancy as your house is but it’s what I call home,” Prowl says as Jazz walks down the hallway. It leads to his Sire and Carrier’s berthroom and Jazz frowns as he looks at the berth. 

“You recharge with your creators or . . .” he trails off as he looks down the hall. Prowl smiles and steps aside for Jazz to walk down the hall and passes by the stairs to see the small kitchen. Prowl follows him into the kitchen that leads back to the storage. Jazz huffs and turns back around, Prowl smiles as he follows Jazz to the stairs. “I thought you had two brothers, there’s not enough space here for all of you. The ceiling here is higher so there can’t be a floor above this and the second floor doesn’t look very big.”

“My brothers were already in their clans when we had to move down here. I was created on the surface but I remember nothing of it.”

“So . . . you have the whole second floor like I have the whole third floor in my home?” Jazz smiles and starts to climb the metal stone stairs. Prowl follows him up and opens his door for Jazz. Jazz walks in and looks around the considerably small room. Prowl stands in the doorway as Jazz walks over to his desk and looks at the small crystal figurines on the top of it. He watches the smaller mech move to his data-pad shelf and takes down a data-pad, one of the older versions. “What is this?”

“It’s a data-pad,” Prowl smiles and steps up beside Jazz to open it. The two screens come online and Jazz gasps at it. “It’s one of the older data-pads. My Carrier said it was in the Praxian archive.”

“I’ve never seen a data-pad like this before,” Jazz says and sets it back on the shelf. 

“You can take it back to your estate if you want to read it,” Prowl says and Jazz puts it in his subspace. Prowl takes one of the older data-books off the shelf and holds it out to Jazz. “This one is filled with short stories. Most of them are my favorites.”

Jazz walks over to the small counter beside the barred windows. He frowns as he touches the bars. “Why are there bars on your window?” 

“My Sire banned me from going to the surface,” Prowl frowns and sits on his berth as Jazz walks past the berth to the other counter.

“It’s quaint,” Jazz turns back to Prowl and glances at the floor in front of the window to see a rolled up temporary berth. “Who’s that for?”

“Bluestreak recharges in my room when he visits and Smokescreen recharges in the sitting room,” Prowl says as he scoots back on his small berth. 

“You know, when I went to the medic the other orn he showed me a picture of our sparkling’s frame,” Jazz sits on the berth, digits trailing over Prowl’s black and white thigh. “He gave me a copy of it if you wanted to see.”

“I would love to see our sparkling,” Prowl says and pulls Jazz over him as he lies back on his berth. How would the medic get a picture of the sparkling that’s inside a mech’s frame? Prowl watches Jazz take out a data-pad from his subspace and online it. The smaller mech holds it up for him to look at. On the screen is a somewhat grainy picture of an outline of the frame. He sees two arms and two legs, a helm and what looks to be two small horns like Jazz’s on the sparkling’s helm. He notices the small flaps on the sparklings back, his claw traces over the protrusions.

“The medic says those will just get reabsorbed in the frame later on,” Jazz lays his helm on Prowl’s chest as Prowl continues to look at the picture.

“Those are sensory panels,” Prowl frowns. “They won’t just disappear.”

“Our sparkling’s going to have sensory panels?” Jazz smiles before wrapping his arms around Prowl’s neck. “We have a beautiful sparkling coming. All you have to do is spark me.”

“In due time,” Prowl smiles.

“Sometime this orn my frame will cannibalize the sparkling frame,” Jazz tries keep his lip plates in a straight line but he pouts a little. 

“Jazz, it’s about trust to open my spark and bare it for you,” Prowl frowns a little. “I need to know you will never betray me or harm me, or hurt any of the Praxians. I know your Sire’s business runs by deactivating Praxians for their armor, but you don’t have to follow him in that business. I need to know that you will not. If we bond I will spark and I need to know you’ll have our sparklings’ best interest at spark. I don’t want them hunted.”

“Prowler, I’d never pass as a hunter, you know that,” Jazz pouts and presses his servo over Prowl’s chest. “Besides my Sire hasn’t hunted Praxians for decaorns, I think since he found out you were a Praxian.”

“That is a relief to hear,” Prowl smiles and leans up to catch Jazz’s lips. 

“So spark me up before it’s too late,” Jazz bounces on Prowl’s frame before trailing his digits along the Praxians wings.

“I’ve never merged with anyone, I’m going to make it count,” Prowl shakes his helm before pressing light kisses along Jazz’s neck. “I don’t want this to be rushed, we both don’t deserve that.”

“True,” Jazz smiles and trails his servos down Prowl’s sides. “But couldn’t we speed it up a little bit, we’ll have the rest of our function to take it slow.”

Prowl sighs and rolls his optics at Jazz’s pout.


	29. Chapter 29

Prowl trails his claws along Jazz’s shoulder plates, keeping his digits over the black lines around the seams of his frame. How could someone have so many gaps in their armor? It couldn’t be for a mech to move, their armor didn’t have gaps and they could move just fine. His claw dips into one of the crevices and Jazz arches against him with a moan. His servo stills as Jazz relaxes again.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” Prowl whispers and presses kisses along the smaller mech’s jaw.

“Didn’t, felt good,” Jazz mumbles as he trails his digits over the Praxian’s sensory panels. “Transformation seams are sensitive.”

“Transformation?” Prowl frowns a bit as he looks at Jazz. “What do you turn into?”

“A car so I can drive,” Jazz walks his digits over Prowl’s chestplates. 

“Why?” Prowl sits up curiosity peaking and Jazz huffs as he follows Prowl to the wall.

“So I can travel long distances fast,” Jazz pulls Prowl in for a kiss, separating only to try sounding intimidating. “Are you going to spark me up or not?”

“Stop distracting me,” Prowl pinches a wire in Jazz’s hip before massaging it and trailing his digits along the other’s arm. “I still want this to be memorable and something we don’t regret.”

“Well you’re going to regret it if you don’t spark me up.”

“Patience,” Prowl smiles and kisses Jazz. “Could you . . . could you remove your visor?”

“Why?” Jazz frowns a bit. “I never remove my visor, my Sire told me not to.”

“Not even for me?” Prowl pouts at the other mech. “I revealed my panels to you.”

“Fine, just, don’t tell nobot,” Jazz says, servos rising up to slide his visor off his optics. Silver optics shine bright in the darkened room. “Better?”

“Better,” Prowl smiles and pulls Jazz down to him. 

 

Jazz frowns as the timer for his frame reabsorbing the sparkling’s frame pops up on his HUD. They haven’t even bared their sparks yet and the timer starts at ten pulses. Overload crashes over him and he cries out, whimpering a little as the countdown continues to three pulses. Two pulses and Prowl’s spark chamber finally opens, his opens immediately and he tries to merge their sparks but Prowl trails his claws over his spark chamber. Why couldn’t the mech admire his frame later and just spark him? One pulse and Prowl finishes admiring his spark chamber and leans in, their sparks merge as the timer reaches zero. Jazz cries out as their sparks merge and his energy level raises. 

 

Prowl wraps his arms around Jazz as their merge slowly comes to an end, once their sparks separate he will learn if they were sparkmates. The bond would form and it would feel like they still had their sparks merged. Prowl backs away slowly, he frowns when he doesn’t smell the sweet Energon flowing through Jazz’s Energon lines anymore. He runs his claws down Jazz’s relaxed helm, the other’s optics are off. He presses a kiss to Jazz’s parted lips before their sparks completely separate. He continues to feel Jazz in his spark and he smiles as his spark chamber closes. 

“My bonded,” Prowl says cupping Jazz’s faceplates with one servo as he lies beside the silver and black mech. He lays his helm on Jazz’s shoulder and falls into recharge. Peace finally coming over his spark. 

 

Prowl onlines to the sound of the main door opening and the sound of a mech walking up the stairs to his room. He sits up on the berth as the door to his berthroom opens and his servo rests on Jazz’s hip. He jumps online the rest of the way when he feels Jazz beside him. The other Praxian stands in the doorway staring at him as he stares at his brother. 

“How dare you bring him in here,” Smokescreen growls, Bluestreak steps into the room after him and freezes when he sees the outsider. “Why would you bring that outsider here?”

“He’s-“

“Prowler, get away from it,” Bluestreak pleads, holding out his servos for his younger brother. Prowl frowns and climbs off the berth only to stand in front of it. 

“Smokescreen, Bluestreak, this outsider is my mate, he is my bonded,” Prowl glances between the two. Disgust comes over Smokescreen and fills his field while horror fills Bluestreak’s field. 

“You disgust me,” Smokescreen growls, stepping up to Prowl’s frame. “I don’t care if that outsider deactivates you. Don’t come running to me when he hurts you.”

“Prowler,” Bluestreak whines as Smokescreen leaves. Bright optics shining and shimmering, sensory panels clattering against his back. Jazz’s moan comes and Bluestreak freezes and watches the outsider online. Prowl crouches and growls lightly at Bluestreak in case the other Praxian wants to attack Jazz. Jazz onlines and stretches behind Prowl’s frame before silver optics online and he looks over to the two Praxians. 

“Prowl?” Jazz asks glancing at Bluestreak.

“It knows your name,” Bluestreak gasps and backs to the other side of the room. “Why would you bring it here?”

“I brought him here to bond with him,” Prowl growls and feels Jazz test the bond by sending him love. 

“You’re bonded to it,” Bluestreak’s sensory panels droop and he moves over to the door. 

“Please, don’t tell creators,” Prowl pleads as he follows Bluestreak to the door. 

“I think it’s time for me to go back to my clan,” Bluestreak glances in the room to see Jazz sitting on the edge of the berth looking at him. “I hope it’s everything you wanted with him.”

“I didn’t mean to make your brother not like you anymore,” Jazz pouts and rubs his chestplates. 

“If they don’t want to accept my choice in bondmate then they don’t know what they’re missing,” Prowl smiles, turning back to Jazz and kissing him. “We should go back to your estate before my creators come back. They might actually try to deactivate you.”

“I don’t want that,” Jazz frowns and puts his visor back on. Prowl leads Jazz through the tunnels and into the darkness of the surface. They reach the estate, Prowl hesitates slightly when they reach the door. Jazz turns around to glance at him. “Something the matter?”

“There are hunters in there,” Prowl stops on the porch. 

“Ya have your outsider disguise on, they won’t know you’re a Praxian,” Jazz says tugging Prowl toward the door. 

“It’s a closed place, I’ll be cornered or at least feel like it,” Prowl frowns and backs away. 

“We could go somewhere else until they’re gone,” Jazz smiles and glances at Orion’s shop to see the light still on. “Come on.”

Prowl follows Jazz to Orion’s shop, the door chimes and Orion Pax glances up smiling at Prowl. Jazz immediately notices a crystal candle and goes over the shelves holding the intricately designed crystals.

“Hey, Prowl,” Orion Pax smiles and cups Prowl’s helm, Jazz frowns as he glances at them. Prowl looks up at Orion Pax, pulling away when the other Praxian leans in to kiss him. 

“I cannot do this anymore,” Prowl steps away from Orion Pax and moves over to Jazz, he slides his servos over the smaller mech’s shoulders. Orion Pax stands there looking at them. 

“You two are bondmates?” Orion Pax asks, Jazz looks back at him and nods, a small frown on his face as he sees the pain in his friend’s face. “I’m happy for you then, congratulations.”

Orion Pax turns around and takes something off one of the shelves behind the counter before coming up to them. 

“In Praxian culture it is usual for the family to give gifts, I know I am not family but I want you two to have this,” Orion Pax holds out the crystal statue of a Sensory paneled Praxian kneeling in front of a light producing mech, an outsider kneels behind the Praxian. “I started working on it when Prowl told me you and he were together.”

“Thank you, Orion,” Prowl smiles, carefully taking the statue and looking at it. “It means a lot.”

Jazz frowns when Prowl hugs Orion Pax. “I thought you hated him?”

“Hate Orion?” Prowl frowns slightly. “No, we are just friends now.”

“When a Praxian bonds they won’t allow themselves to have any contact outside of friendly contact with another mech,” Orion Pax smiles. 

“So Prowler’s not going to sneak over here anymore?” Jazz asks, glancing up at Prowl.

“No, I will not look at another mech the way I look at you,” Prowl says trailing his claws over Jazz’s chin. 

“You won’t ever look at another mech the same way?” Jazz frowns, rubbing over his spark chamber again.

“Is there something wrong with your spark?” Orion Pax asks. Jazz frowns as he stares at his friend. 

“No, I guess it’s just the bond, it’s all new to me,” Jazz shrugs. “Maybe we should get back to my estate, I’m feeling kind of tired.”

“Congratulation on your bonding,” Orion Pax smiles as they leave the shop, Jazz waves a little as Prowl wraps his arm around his waist. 

“So you an Orion are really finished?” Jazz asks, Prowl nods, pulling Jazz close and kissing him. 

“I can never look or touch another mech as I do you,” Prowl says as they step up the stairs to the door. “My spark will forever be yours.”

“Even if I deactivate?” Jazz frowns as the door opens and his Sire’s hunting friends glance their way as Prowl nods and pulls him in for another kiss. 

“Jazz,” Triveil smiles, Prowl tenses as he looks at the other hunters, Jazz’s servo in his tightens. “You look like your glowing.”

“Oh, uh . . . Barricade and I bonded,” Jazz says glancing over at Prowl. Prowl steps back slightly, shyly to the others perception. 

“You bonded,” Triveil’s smile turns into a frown as Jazz jumps into hug his Sire. Burning blue optics bore into him and Prowl takes in a vent to keep from backing away under the intensity. “So does this mean you’ll be leaving and moving in with Barricade?” 

“Uh . . .” Jazz glances back at Prowl. “His creators kind of don’t know yet. I wanted to tell you first and we were closer here than his . . . house.”

“Well, since you two are here already, would you like to come with us on our hunting party?” Triveil’s smile returns but Prowl never relaxes as the other hunters look at him. Jazz glances back at him.

“Sure,” Prowl forces a smile to his faceplates and Jazz jumps back over to his side.

~You don’t have to come if you don’t want to,~ Jazz sends over the bond. 

~Thunderfange is coming, he’s in the other room,~ Prowl glances to the right as Thunderfange comes into view. 

Thunderfange pulls Triveil in a hug, smirk pointed to Prowl and hidden from the other hunters. Prowl’s spark turns cold, Jazz tightens his servos where they grip his frame. Confusion trickles over the bond.


	30. Chapter 30

Prowl and Jazz follow the five other hunters, glancing around as his field tingles with fear. Jazz tugs on his servo. 

“What’s wrong?” Jazz leans closer and against his frame. Prowl trembles and wraps his arms around Jazz. 

“Thunderfange is planning something, I just know it,” Prowl whispers, Jazz glances at his sire walking beside Thunderfange. 

“What do you think it is?” 

“Something to do with your sire,” Prowl shudders, hidden sensory panels rattling against his back. Jazz jumps at the sound.

“I’ve never noticed that before,” Jazz glances at his back. 

“Our bond balances senses,” Prowl glances over at him before returning his attention to Triveil. The group comes to a clearing, the other hunters start moving towards the tree line, Prowl steps into the clearing with Jazz as Thunderfange walks farther away from Triveil and turns to face him. The outsider disguise of the older Praxian falls when none of the hunters are paying attention and Prowl only notices it out of the corner of his optics. A terrifying, cyber-bird scaring growl escapes Thunderfange and before any of the hunters can turn around to the sound, the older Praxian lunges for Triveil. Prowl runs and leaps over Triveil, outsider disguise tearing away from his Praxian armor. Both Praxian’s armor glimmer in the light and the hunters stand frozen watching the two clash mid-leap. Prowl’s smaller frame gets pushed aside by Thunderfange’s stronger frame and the older Praxian turns to Triveil. 

“Sire,” Jazz screams, glancing to Prowl’s downed form and his Sire backing away. The other hunters raise their weapons at Thunderfange. Prowl pulls himself up with a growl and the hunters turn their weapons to him. Prowl leaps onto Thunderfange’s back, fangs tear into the other Praxian’s neck, blue Energon leaks down the older’s armor. Arrows rain down on them from one of the hunters, Prowl dodges them and lets Thunderfange take them. The older Praxian growls and swipes his claw at Prowl. Prowl hisses as the claws scrape along his chest. He crouches as he gains control of the searing pain. Claws out and glinting in the light he pounces, digging his claws into the older mech’s abdomen. Thunderfange grabs Prowl’s smaller frame and throws him aside. “Prowl!”

The hunters start shooting at Thunderfange, the older Praxian’s armor seems to absorb their attacks. Prowl pushes himself off the ground weakly, Energon running out of his chest and other minor scratches along his frame. He glances at Triveil who scrambles away from Thunderfange, the older outsider falls to the ground and Thunderfange lunges for the kill. Prowl leaps, pushing Triveil out of the way of the death blow. Jazz’s scream resonates in the crystal leaves as he feels the fangs of the other Praxian embed themselves into his back. Triveil starts shooting at Thunderfange and the other hunters start shooting both Praxians. 

“Don’t shoot Prowl, don’t shoot him!” Jazz screams, Prowl winces when one of the shots connect with his sensory panel. Prowl turns and bites the other’s shoulder, ripping a piece of shoulder armor off and baring his protoform. The older Praxian howls in pain when an arrow sinks into the vulnerable protoform. Prowl cries out when he gets shot in the side by one of the hunters. “Stop, he’s trying to save us!” 

Prowl stands, swaying a little as Thunderfange turns to Triveil. Thunderfange stumbles a little and Prowl lunges at the other Praxian, fangs digging into the other’s neck, the taller Praxian falls to his knees and Prowl pulls the Praxian’s back armor apart with his claws. Prowl’s growl chills the hunter’s Energon as Thunderfange falls offline, blue Energon covers Prowl’s black and white frame as he stands over the downed Praxian. Prowl vents heavily and looks at Jazz as the Energon runs down his armor. Jazz trembles where he sits on the ground. Molten gold optics brighten, pain erupts in his back, Jazz screams in agony, falling to the ground and Prowl wavers where he stands. Dropping to his knees as the pain fades into nothing. Triviel cries out, heading to Prowl’s side as gold optics offline. Jazz’s whimpers fill the clearing. The two hunters still standing at the tree line stare at the hunter with the Energon coated arrow in his servo. 

“How could you!” Triveil yells at the hunter as he holds Prowl’s limp frame. “He was protecting us.”

“It was a Praxian that needed to be deactivated,” the hunter says, bringing up the arrow to shove into the defenseless Praxian’s chest. Triveil punches the hunter and the others come over to detain him. They look at Prowl in Triveil’s arms. 

“We’ll lock him up, do you need help taking them back to your estate?” one of the hunters asks. Triveil shakes his helm and glances to Jazz withering on the ground. Cries escape the smaller mech as he scrapes his digits over his chest. 

“Jazz,” Triveil says as the others leave the clearing. Jazz whimpers and tries to sit up. “Is he deactivated?”

“No, he’s in pain, burning pain, Sire, please, don’t deactivate him,” Jazz cries, wiping the Energon tears from his face. 

“Let’s get him back to the estate,” Triveil gathers the Praxian in his arms and Jazz shakily stands, servos clutching his chest. 

Jazz sniffles all the way back to the estate, whole frame trembling when they reach the gates. Orion stands at his shop door hanging a new bouquet of crystal flowers outside when he sees Prowl’s torn frame. 

“No, Jazz, how could you?” Orion Pax growls. Jazz looks over at his friend, falling to his knees as the trembling of his frame becomes too much. 

“Jazz, we need to clean his frame so his wounds can heal,” Triveil moves Prowl’s frame in his arms to reach down for his creation. Orion Pax crosses the street and stands in front of Triveil. 

“Let me help,” Orion Pax says, taking Prowl’s limp frame from the outsider. Triveil picks up his distressed creation and carries him into the estate and leads Orion Pax down to the basement, Orion Pax freezes when he sees the caged deactivated Praxians. “Scrap.”

Triveil turns to him as he sets Jazz on one of the berths. “Orion, what’s wrong?”

“Look, I don’t know what you plan on doing with Prowl but I should leave,” Orion Pax says nearly tossing Prowl’s limp frame on the berth. 

“’Rion, wait, stay,” Jazz cries and holds out his servos to the Praxian in disguise. “Sire, you won’t hurt Orion, he’s one of them.”

Triveil glances between the two and watches how Orion Pax wraps his arms around Jazz. Orion Pax glances up at the outsider. 

“You should clean his wounds before his spark fades, if you want to help him,” Orion Pax says and Jazz scoots off the berth and Orion Pax helps him to the side of Prowl’s berth. 

“Strap him on the berth, I don’t want him to online and attack,” Triveil says and Orion Pax hesitantly locks the straps around Prowl’s limbs. Triveil turns around with bowls of water and rags for them to clean the Praxian’s frame. 

 

Prowl groans as the lingering pain ebbs away from his frame. He flinches as the memories of the fight play back in his helm. “Ja-Jazz?”

“Prowler,” Jazz’s voice is distant and he tries to sit up, something restrains his arms at his elbows, his wrists are bound and he feels the binds around his legs and ankles. Gold optics blaze online and he pulls frantically at the binds. He stills and whimpers as he sees Triveil leaning against the counter and Jazz sitting on the berth. “You’re up.”

Prowl growls at Jazz when the smaller mech chirps and hops off the berth. He hisses when the black servo reaches for his helm and he pulls away as much as he can. “Don’t touch me.”

“Prowler, you’re alright,” Jazz frowns and climbs up on the berth. Prowl growls louder when Triveil looks over at him. 

“I shouldn’t have trusted you, you're no better than any other outsider,” Prowl pulls at the straps detaining him. 

“Prowl, we only strapped you down to keep you from attacking us and running away,” Jazz frowns, leaning in, disregarding his Sire’s protests and pressing a kiss to Prowl’s lip plates. Prowl stills, kissing back as his spark pulses hard for its other half. Jazz lies down on his healed frame and he reaches his bound servos to touch Jazz’s thighs. Triveil moves slightly and Prowl growls, biting down with his fangs on Jazz’s bottom lip plate. Jazz whimpers and sits back as Energon pools in his mouth. “Prowler?”

“Release me and I will let you live,” Prowl growls pulling against the straps. Triveil holds out his servo to Jazz and helps the smaller mech off the berth. 

“Prowler,” Jazz cries holding a rag to his lip. “Please, we just wanted to help you. You protected us from Thunderfange, we know what side you’re on—“

“You know nothing,” Prowl growls and pulls his right arm hard against the straps. They break and he lunges for Jazz, claws just a servo length away. Jazz screams and falls on the floor as he jumps back. Triveil stands in front of his creation with his gun pointed at Prowl.

“Sire, don’t, he’s just . . .”

“Just what, Jazz, just finding out the truth?” Prowl growls as he swipes his claws on the straps binding his other arm and legs. “I should have never bonded to you. I cannot believe Smokescreen was right. I never want to see you again. If I do I will deactivate you.”

Prowl growls at the two outsiders before pulling the cages down and blocking their path if they wanted to follow him, Firesky sits at the top of the stares and he growls at her. She scurries under the table in the sitting room, Prowl hisses at the maid who stands frozen in the doorway of the kitchen to see what all the noise is about. He tears open the door and runs out into the darkness of the dark cycle. He doesn’t look back as mech’s clatter out of their houses at the growls he leaves behind. He reaches the fountain, the carved glyphs of his and Jazz’s designations glow in the moonlight and he rakes his claws over them, four lines mark them out. He continues to his cavern, slowing his pace only when he reaches the darkness of the tunnels. He slumps against the tunnel wall in the darkness, how could he return to his home? The place where he bonded to that outsider. How could he face his family, tell them he bonded to a sparkmate that decided it was best to keep him as a pet or deactivate him. 

“Prowl?” Ironhide asks, leaving his post to come to him. The black Praxian kneels down beside him. 

“Can I stay with you and Ratchet?” Prowl looks up, Energon tears glowing pink in the darkness. 

“You’re always welcomed in our home,” Ironhide says helping him up. “Ratchet’s on his way to come get you. Wanna talk about it until he gets here?”

Prowl shakes his helm against the larger mech’s chest. “I just want to go into recharge, I . . . Jazz and I didn’t work out. I think I messed up.”

“Hey, Prowl, it’s not the end of the world. There could be a chance you two see past whatever argument you had and make up,” Ironhide bumps his chin up with his fist. “You’re both still online, aren’t you, there’s time to fix any mistake.”

“I don’t think—“ 

“Prowl,” Ratchet reaches them and takes Prowl in his arms. “It’s alright, let’s get back to the house. I’ll make you some warm Energon.”

Prowl nods and leans heavily on Ratchet. Once inside Prowl collapses on the floor, vents heaving as his frame heats. “Ratchet, I’m burning!” 

“Vent, Prowl, vent,” Ratchet kneels beside him as pain starts in his chest. He clutches his chest and Ratchet pulls his servos away and opens his chest plates. “You bonded? You’re sparked. Who’s the Sire?”

Prowl stares at Ratchet with pure terror in his field and spark, he sees his reflection in Ratchet’s armor, it holds pure terror and to him looks like he’s witnessing the end of the world. 

“Prowl, who is the Sire?” Ratchet grabs his arms. “Who is your bonded? Did someone force you to bond?”

Prowl tears himself away from the only family he would ever have had who would have accepted who his choice in bonded was. With a sparklet, everything changes. How could he live with Praxians when he was carrying an outsider’s sparkling. Prowl backs out of Ratchet’s house, Ratchet’s calls after him get drowned out by his pulsing spark. He runs to his house, running past his family and up to his room. He grabs his blankets and a pillow, piling them in a crate as his creators come into his room. 

“Prowl what are you doing?” his Sire asks, Energon tears flow down his face, he wipes them away. 

“I’m sorry, creators,” Prowl looks up and sees his brothers standing in the doorway. He grabs a few data-books and throws them in the crate before grabbing it and pushing past his family. “I’m sorry.”

“Prowl!” his carrier yells as he runs down the stairs. “Prowl, what is happening.”

“He bonded to an outsider,” Prowl hears Smokescreen say. “He’s probably carrying the outsider’s spawn.”

“Prowl, is this true?” his Sire yells and Prowl slams the door shut behind him. The Praxians in the street stop what they are doing and stare at him. 

“Prowl, stop this,” Ratchet yells and tries to stand in his way. Prowl pushes past him, cries being absorbed in his frame. He runs out into the night, ignoring Ironhide’s calls to him. He runs toward the empty cavern, hoping no other Praxian is there. On his way to the cavern, he spots an abandoned cave, taking refuge in it he collapses to the ground in a heap crying out as his spark pulses with all the pain of leaving everyone he’s ever loved. After his optics dry with no more Energon to be used for tears, he pulls out his blankets and pillow, making a bed on a somewhat raised platform in the back of the dark cave. Piling most of the blankets to make the rock softer, he uses one to cover his frame. Recharge consumes him, resting his weakened and drained frame. 

The scent of hunters near the cave reaches him and brings him out of recharge, he growls lowly, the sound echoing through the cave. The sparklet pulls at his spark for energy, energy he doesn’t have to give. Soon he will need to hunt. Could he hunt? He could barely keep his optics open. He pulls himself off his hard berth to the entrance of the cave. A deactivated crystal stag sits just outside the protection of the cave’s darkness. His tanks grumble as he stares at it. 

It could be a trap, but it looked so good right now. How could he not pass it up? Who would just leave a crystal stag within his reach? He pounces on the stag, fangs sinking into the freshly deactivated crystal armor. Glancing around as he devours the stag, he sees no immediate threat and he pulls the stag into the cave to finish it off later. Sniffing around his cave he doesn’t smell anything out of the ordinary. Pulling the stag to his berth, he curls up on it with a claw over the deactivated frame and falls into recharge. 

The scent of familiar Praxians reach him, he growls in warning to them, claws sinking into the crystal armor of his stag. He onlines his optics to see Ratchet and Ironhide walking into his new home. He huffs as his growls do nothing to deter them. 

“Prowl,” Ratchet says kneeling in front of his berth. 

“Your creators told us what happened,” Ironhide kneels beside Ratchet and rubs his servo over his white helm. 

“Are you here to take me back,” Prowl growls out, voice rough from not using it except for only growling. 

“Prowl, you’re our only hope of a creation, we had to come and make sure you were alright,” Ratchet says, glancing at the stag. “You’re in no shape of hunting by yourself. Your sparklet needs all the nutrients you can get and if you’re using your energy for just hunting it’s not going to your sparklet.”

“Seems like you got this stag just fine though,” Ironhide pokes the stag, Prowl growls and glares at him, claws sinking more into the stag. The black mech holds up his servos and backs away. 

“Hunters left it, thought it was a trap to lure me out, nothing bad happened this time,” Prowl says as his vents huff from the strain of staying online for more than just surveying the cave. 

“We’ll hunt for you,” Ratchet presses his chevron against his. He nods and falls into recharge, sighing that he doesn’t need to be on high alert. 

Prowl onlines, rested better since he has been since leaving. He onlines his optics to see the stag the hunters brought along with a cyberbear and a few turborabbits and a cyberwolf. He slips from the berth and finishes the stag before turning to the cyberbear. He notices Ironhide sitting in the small room he’s called his berthroom. 

“Don’t worry about us, we ate on our hunt,” Ironhide says and Prowl glances around for Ratchet but doesn’t see him. “He’s guarding the entrance.”

“Who took your place at your post?” Prowl asks as he pulls the cyberbear’s armor apart. 

“Some new rookie cadets,” Ironhide shrugs. “Tell you the truth this is a lot better than standing guard in a dark tunnel. There’s actually some real need for us.”

“And to think you can thank Jazz for it,” Prowl hisses as he starts eating the cyberbear. Ironhide frowns and comes over to kneel beside him. 

“What happened between the two of you?” Ironhide asks, lifting his chin up. 

“He tried to strip me of my armor after I gave my spark to him,” Prowl pulls his helm away from Ironhide’s servo. “Now I have the outsider’s spawn forming in me.”

“Half that spawn is yours,” Ironhide takes his chin again. “Don’t go abandoning the sparkling just because you’re mad at the Sire. He’s got no choice in who his Sire is.”

“I know that,” Prowl growls pulling away from Ironhide and dragging the cyberbear to the other side of the berthroom. “I would abandon myself before the sparkling, I’m the one that got me in this situation.”

“Prowl, know you are not alone in this, we’ll help in any way we can,” Ironhide takes his seat again. Prowl huffs and continues eating.


	31. Chapter 31

At the growing strength with Ironhide and Ratchet hunting for him, Prowl joins Ratchet in another little cubby of the cave, something resembling a dining room. The hunted animal frames pile up along the walls, the non-consumable armor is piled up in the corner. Prowl slips under Ratchet’s arms and sits on his lap, cuddling up to the guard and adoptive Carrier. 

“I see you’re feeling better,” Ratchet smiles, cupping his helm. Prowl nods and rests his helm on the red and white’s shoulder. 

“I think I’m up for some hunting,” Prowl smiles, trailing his claws along the other’s chest plates. “It’s getting kinda boring here.”

“I bet, you were never one to stay in a single spot for more than a pulse,” Ratchet smiles. “We’ll let Ironhide check the surroundings before we venture out.”

Prowl nods as Ironhide walks by the opening. Prowl stands as Ratchet nods to him, they both walk out of the cave to meet Ironhide a few pedes away. 

“It’s clear behind the cave, there are some outsiders toward the village,” Ironhide says pointing in the directions. Prowl nods and leads the two on a hunt. Prowl stops when he catches the scent of cyberwolves. Ironhide and Ratchet come up beside him. 

“Ignore or cravings” Ratchet asks noticing how Prowl perches. 

“Cravings,” Prowl purrs and runs toward the cyberwolf pack. Ironhide and Ratchet attack alongside him. Each deactivating three cyberwolves and taking them back to the cave. Prowl purrs as he sinks his fangs into the wolves, he feels the sparklet hum in his chest. 

“Sparklet must be more Praxian than outsider,” Ironhide chuckles as they pile the cyberwolves in the dining room and picks at the cyberbear an orn old. Ratchet glares at Ironhide, but glances at Prowl whose attention is solely on the cyberwolf. Ratchet joins Ironhide on the cyberbear, glancing at Prowl every so often. They freeze when Prowl turns to get another cyberwolf, only resuming when Prowl’s focus returns to the cyberwolf. 

“I hope you two aren’t fearing that I will turn against you,” Prowl says, making the two guards freeze and glance at each other. “I don’t really like the taste of Arcitheryum’s anyway. These cyberwolves will be all I need for the next several orns.”

“We should have known,” Ironhide sighs. “When you’re an adult Praxian at the fall of Praxus you learned quickly whose alpha Praxian. When we first came you were growling like the alphas that make up the council.”

“Sorry,” shoulders slump and Prowl glances up at the two mechs. “I didn’t mean to. I was just trying to deter anyone from coming and bothering me.”

All three Praxians freeze when the scent of two hunters reaches them, Prowl growls and moves toward the entrance of the cave, Ratchet and Ironhide follow him. Prowl stops at the tunnel leading to the entrance when he sees who stands in the light of the entrance, the silver frame and sapphire blue visor glowing in the light. He growls and Jazz flinches, Ironhide and Ratchet hold Prowl back from attacking the outsider. 

“What are you doing here,” Prowl growls at Jazz, pacing the ground when Ratchet and Ironhide let him go. 

“I wanted to see how you were doing, the hunters we were with . . . that day, they told us you were here,” Jazz says inching his way into the cave. “So . . . how are you?”

Prowl lunges at Jazz, claws slashing the silver mech’s arms before Ironhide and Ratchet come and pull him away. Jazz scrambles back to the entrance, looking fearful at Prowl.

“Prowler,” Jazz starts crying. “We didn’t want to hurt you. We weren’t trying to. Orion knows, he was there.”

“Leave, I don’t want to see you,” Prowl growls and pulls against Ratchet and Ironhide. Blue Energon leaks out of the gashes on the silver mech’s arms. 

“I’m sparked, Prowl!” Jazz yells as he sits on the ground. “It’s your sparklet just so you know. I’m sorry ya got banished for bonding to me. I’m sorry you think I ruined your life, you know, what we had was pretty amazing to me. I’m actually regretting bonding to you because if this-“

Jazz squeaks when Prowl appears over him, pinning him to the ground, lip plates connected to his and that bladed glossa slips into his mouth. 

“Prowl?” Jazz mumbles as he tries pulling away. 

“Shh,” Prowl says putting his servo over Jazz’s mouth while he kisses down the black cabled neck, across the silver shoulder and down to the claw marks where he licks the Energon clean and heals them with licks before turning to the other arm. “I didn’t get banished. I left.”

“Why?” Jazz asks under Prowl’s servo. 

“Do you know what they would do if they learned I was carrying the spawn of an outsider?” Prowl asks kissing his way down to where Jazz’s sparkling is forming. 

“Spawn of –“ Jazz winces. “You see our creation as a spawn?” 

“Jazz, I was angry at you. You turned on me. You betrayed my trust, I still don’t trust you as I did when we bonded. Right now I would take it back if I could.”

“Prowler, I’m so sorry,” Jazz wraps his arms around the Praxian. “Will you ever trust me again? Will we ever be like we were?”

“Not anytime soon,” Prowl pulls away. “You need to leave.”

“Prowler,” Jazz reaches out to him. Prowl growls and Jazz pulls his arm back. “I’m sorry, I could tell Orion to come, if I can find him.”

“What happened to Orion?” Prowl crouches, ready to strike at the outsider.

“He left after he helped clean your frame. I went to his shop when you left to ask if he could go looking for you and he wasn’t there. There’s a ship in the dock, it might be the one Megatron is on and he might be with him but . . .”

“If any outsider has harmed him-“ Prowl growls.

“Chill, Prowl,” Jazz holds up his servos. “The whole village pretty much halted all Praxian hunting. He’s not in any danger from us.” 

“There are other outsiders around the area,” Prowl growls stalking toward Jazz. “You can’t possibly think that since your village is the main one here that there aren’t other outsiders in the woods.”

“Prowler,” Jazz grabs Prowl’s arms as Prowl steps up to him. “I know there are other outsiders around. I worry that he might have run into those groups. You know he’s been in that shop for so long.”

Prowl burst out laughs, “do you really believe a Praxian forgets his training by vorns of playing nice with outsiders. He’s older than I am, I’ve been out hunting with him and seen how he fights. He can hold his own against outsiders.”

“I kinda snuck away from my Sire, he’s out hunting for crystal stags right now,” Jazz whispers leaning closer. “You think we could . . . maybe work on rebuilding some of the trust?”

“Do you enjoy being in danger,” Prowl tilts his helm as Jazz’s servos slide along his hips. 

“Maybe if that danger concerns you,” Jazz smiles wrapping his arms around Prowl’s waist. “So wanna show me around yer new home?” 

“Ratchet, Ironhide, could you go get me more cyberwolves?” Prowl asks taking Jazz’s servo. Ratchet glances between the two. 

“Jazz, will you be alright?” Ironhide asks, Jazz glances at the black Praxian and nods, holding onto Prowl. 

“I will not harm Jazz,” Prowl glances to the two Praxians. “He will be safe as long as he doesn’t try anything.”

Jazz smiles as the two guards walk past him. “Finally alone, so where’s your berthroom?”

“Why do you care about my berthroom?” Prowl frowns as he looks down at the silver mech clinging to him. The other’s frame feels warm where it touches his. “Why are you running so hot?”

“Blame your spawn,” Jazz chirps and drapes himself over Prowl. “Don’t tell me you don’t want to merge with me right now?”

“Merge? Why would I endanger our sparklings with a merge?” Prowl pulls away slightly. Jazz pouts as Prowl moves away from him. 

“The medic told me at my last check-up that a merge with the Sire of the sparklet would help with spark energy,” Jazz frowns as he plops down on the blanket covered berth. “Owe, your berth is hard.”

“It’s made out of rock,” Prowl smirks. “Praxian normally don’t merge when carrying. The council said it would kill the sparklet.”

“And the council also would banish you because of your sparkmate, what else does this council say that you would like to do?” 

“Ratchet would know if merging will harm the sparklet,” Prowl says going to the opening of the berthroom. 

“But they’re out hunting,” Jazz whines and flops down on the berth. “Owe, you need more blankets.”

“I grabbed what I could on my way out, and they didn’t leave, they don’t trust me alone with you just yet, especially with a half Praxian sparkling.”

“You wouldn’t deactivate your own sparkling, would you?” Jazz pouts at Prowl.

“Of course not, but I attacked you, that’s reason enough to stay around,” Prowl sighs. “Jazz, I want to trust you. I want what we had. But you’re an outsider-“

“And you’re a Praxian,” Jazz waves his servo in the air. “I don’t care what you are, I want us.”

“Give me time to think over it,” Prowl says, Jazz hops off the berth. 

“Fine, have your time, I’ll be back later.”

Prowl frowns as he watches the silver mech saunter out of the berthroom. Such a strange mech. 

“Jazz left, did you hurt him?” Ratchet asks.

“I didn’t know he was sparked, I’m sorry,” Prowl sighs. “I was coming to ask you something, Jazz’s medic said that merging would help his sparklet, but the council always said that merging was harmful to sparklets.”

“Merging help sparklets,” Ratchet frowns. “There was a lot of things the council did to keep the mechs under their rule. We couldn’t do anything otherwise. Just like they said that merging sparks was the only way to know who your sparkmate was, there was another way.”

“Why would Jazz’s frame be so warm?” Prowl asks as Ironhide dumps another pack of cyberwolves in the dining room. “My frame doesn’t run that hot and I’m carrying the same kind of sparkling. Do you think he’s suffering because he’s not getting enough material from his Energon?”

“Possibly,” Ratchet says. “When he comes next I want to give him a Praxian check-up, those outsiders know their own kind but that sparkling is not a full outsider.”

Prowl nods and starts ripping open the cyberwolves. 

 

Darkness soon falls outside and Ratchet and Ironhide leave to go hunt for their own food. Prowl curls up on his hard berth, did Jazz lie when he said he was going to come back later? Could he trust Jazz enough to stay with him? Knowing he could never trust Triveil again, Jazz was his bonded. How could he not eventually trust him? They gave each other their sparks. Jazz obviously trusted him enough to come tell him he was sparked, even knowing that he might possibly deactivate him. Prowl lies on his back, wincing as his sensory panels scrape the rock berth. Jazz was right, this berth was hard. 

The faded scent of a hunter drifts into the berthroom and he sits up with his helm tilted. 

“Prowler . . . uh . . . can I come in?” Jazz’s voice echoes through the tunnels of the cave. Prowl smiles a little, Jazz didn’t lie about coming back. 

“Yeah,” Prowl calls back and moments later the silver mech walks into the dimly lit by crystals berthroom. 

“You added some light,” Jazz nods to the crystals as he comes over to Prowl sitting on the berth. 

“Thought you might want some light, since you are an outsider,” Prowl smiles as he trails his claws over Jazz’s servo before taking it in his own. 

“Said I’d come back, miss me?” Jazz sits on the Praxian’s lap. 

“You did and yes, I missed you,” trailing his claws over Jazz’s helm, he leans closer to kiss the other. Jazz pulls away with a smile. 

“Gotchya something,” Jazz hops off his lap and pulls him off the berth. Prowl frowns as he’s moved to watch his berth. Jazz reaches to his side and pulls out a blanket from his subspace. Prowl smiles a little as Jazz starts making the berth with the blanket padding. Gold optics brighten when Jazz pulls out more blankets and pillows to position around the rock berth. 

“Jazz,” Prowl says as his berth gets covered in pillows. 

“They weren’t doing anything in my hidey-hole so I brought them for you,” Jazz smiles, squeaking when Prowl grabs him and kisses him hard. 

“Thank you,” Prowl says before pinning Jazz to the newly padded berth. Jazz hums and wraps his arms around the Praxian. 

 

Ratchet walks into the berthroom, the crystals illuminate two frames on the pillow padded berth. Sensory panels flutter as Prowl recharges and he smiles at the sight. Ironhide steps up beside Ratchet and smiles as well. 

“Think they’ll be okay?” Ironhide asks, taking Ratchet’s servo. 

“I think as much as you want to try and have another sparkling,” Ratchet tugs Ironhide into their room.


	32. Chapter 32

Prowl onlines to the berth empty and frowns as he glances around for Jazz. Why would Jazz leave? The smell of sweetened Energon dances around him and before he knows it he’s at the entrance to the cave. Outside the cave, outside of the safety of the cave sits a basket full of Energon goodies. Prowl glances around, sniffing the air to see if it’s a trap. He hugs the cave wall, trying to restrain himself from falling into a hunter’s trap. 

“You know, it’s not a trap,” Jazz says, Prowl jumps and stumbles out of the cave. Looking back he sees Jazz leaning on the outside wall of the cave. “If it was I think I’d have had you long ago, actually I do have you.”

Prowl growls at Jazz’s “outsider hunter” behavior. Was Thunderfange right? Did Jazz’s coding make him a hunter?

“So, I didn’t know which one was your favorite exactly so I had the maid make all of them,” Jazz smiles and skips over to the basket and pick it up. “Thought we could go through them and see which ones ya like.”

Prowl watches Jazz warily, how could one mech go from one mood to the next so quickly. His helm starts spinning as he dwells on the matter. Jazz pulls him along and steps into the dining room, the outsider freezes in his steps as he looks around the crystal lit room. Energon covered frames of deactivated animals lie around the room, smears of Energon coat the floor in a poorly done painting. Jazz gags and shoves the treat basket into Prowl’s arms before running out of the cave. Prowl glances back after him and sees the silver mech purge just outside the cave. He snickers a little as Jazz purges a second time. 

“That is disgusting,” Jazz waves his servo at the dining room.

“That’s what we eat and you should too to help our sparkling,” Prowl says setting the basket on the roughly chiseled table. He walks over to an untouched cyberwolf and drags it over. “We have our meal then we have our dessert.”

“I’m gonna be sick again,” Jazz hops out of the room and runs outside to purge again. 

“Someone brought us goodies?” Ironhide asks, walking into the dining room and hovering over the table. 

“Mine,” Prowl growls and pulls the basket closer. Ironhide chuckles holding his servos up. 

“Alright, ‘not’ alpha Praxian,” Ironhide walks over to the Arcitheryum in the corner of the room. Prowl growls as Jazz takes s his seat beside Prowl again. 

“Stop growling at the table,” Jazz slaps the crystal white servo and Prowl glances over at him with bright gold optics. “It’s not nice.”

“Says the mech who can’t stay at the table for more than a pulse,” Prowl laughs and rips open the cyberwolf’s armor. Jazz gags at the sound. “Finally ran out of stuff to purge?” 

Jazz nods as he holds his servo over his mouth. He winces as Prowl hands him an Energon coated piece of the cyberwolf. 

“Do I have to?” Jazz whines, pouting as he holds the dripping, whatever piece of wolf it is, out for him. Prowl nods as he digs around inside the wolf frame, the squishy sounds make Jazz gag and scoot a little away from Prowl. “Do you have to dig around in it right now?”

“How else will I get to the good stuff?” Prowl smirks taking out his Energon coated servo. “Want a lick?”

“No,” Jazz scrunches up his nasal ridge and pulls his helm away. “You can have it all. I’m still working on this.”

“You know,” Ironhide says as he looks up from his cyberbear, “if you eat it now, you’ll be done with it.”

“I don’t even know what ‘it’ is,” Jazz holds it away from him as it continues to drip Energon. 

“It’s the sac the sparkling goes when it’s ready to separate,” Prowl smiles over at Jazz, Energon coating his fangs. Jazz’s visor brightens and his mouth opens a little. Prowl cups Jazz’s servos in his and pushes the sac into the silver mech’s open mouth. Ironhide bursts out laughing at Jazz’s strangled scream. 

“You two make a cute pair,” Ironhide wipes the Energon tears from his faceplates as he continues to laugh. 

“I’m glad I’m so amusing,” Jazz winces as he swallows. Prowl frowns as Jazz grabs the basket of Energon and walks out of the dining room. 

“What’s his problem?” Ironhide asks, Prowl shrugs and follows the silver mech to the berthroom. 

“Jazz?” Prowl asks when Jazz sits on the berth. He kneels in front of the smaller mech. “What’s wrong?”

“Do you really love me, or is it some sort of entertainment for you?” Jazz doesn’t look up and Prowl sees the glow of Energon tears under the sapphire visor. 

“Jazz, it’s no form of game or entertainment for me,” Prowl takes the basket and sets it on the ground before climbing up on the berth and pulling Jazz to him. “I love you with all my spark. Ironhide was just being himself. I’m more worried about your abrupt changes in mood. Are you sure you are feeling alright?”

“Yeah, it’s normal,” Jazz waves it off, Prowl catches his servo and looks at him. 

“It’s normal? Is it normal to go manically outsider hunter to the Jazz I know and love to this sad excuse of a mech?”

“I said it was normal, I can’t explain my whole biology to you!” Jazz tries to push away from Prowl but the Praxian holds on tighter. 

“Now you’re angry at me for not understanding, where is the Jazz I know?” Prowl cries, holding Jazz’s helm to his. “Where is the playful mech who caught my attention in the woods? The one who would rather draw than to hunt. I want the Jazz who snuck me back into your house, the one who taught me the outsider language.”

“You’re looking at him,” Jazz frowns. “It’s just the sparkling.”

“A sparkling cannot control you,” Prowl frowns. “Our sparkling isn’t making me a whirlwind of moods.”

“Well, you’re different,” Jazz shrugs. 

“Would merging help?” Prowl asks, kissing Jazz’s neck lightly. He feels Jazz nod and smiles a little. 

 

Prowl tightens his arms around Jazz as the smell of a hunter enters the berthroom. Jazz moans beside him and snuggles closer. Prowl lays his helm on Jazz’s chest, listening to the other’s spark. The smell of freshly deactivated animals reaches him and he perks up. When did Ironhide and Ratchet have the time to go out on a hunt? Last time he knew, they were in their berthroom trying to be quiet, which they failed. Prowl winces as his sparkling scrapes the edges of his gestation chamber when the smell of fresh Energon reaches the smaller mech inside him. 

Slipping over Jazz’s recharging form, he stuffs a pillow in the silver mech’s outstretched arms and holds in a laugh when the smaller mech cuddles into the pillow. He turns to the scent calling his tanks and moves through the tunnel of the cave silently. He reaches the mouth of the cave to see the animals tossed into the cave entrance, unlike Jazz’s lure to go outside or the hunter’s lure to bring him out, he didn’t have to leave the safety of the cave for this meal. He stalks over to the crystal stag, though not the type of animal he wants, it’s good enough for a beginning course. He keeps his sensors open since the scent of the hunter lingers around the cave. 

As he finishes with the stag, the scent of the hunter grows and he hears the pede steps of a mech nearing the entrance of the cave. He growls slightly, moving back into the cave to hide more of his frame. Triveil steps into view and he stops, Prowl growls louder, the mech doesn’t move. 

“Look, Prowl, I’m sorry for what happened,” Triveil says, optics never leaving Prowl’s. “If you’re injured I could help you.”

“I am not injured,” Prowl growls, optics glancing at the cyberwolf at the hunter’s pedes. He whines quietly as he watches as the hunter keeps standing at the one animal he craves the most. Why couldn’t the hunter just move on? “I am perfectly fine, now you can leave.”

“I know this isn’t your real home,” Triveil crosses his arms. “Something happened to you—“

“Prowler?” Jazz asks coming to the entrance and rubbing his optics under his visor. “Sire, what are you doing here?”

“Jazz, I told you not to come here, you can’t stay here in your condition,” Triveil holds out his servo. 

“But I wanna stay,” Jazz pouts and wraps his arms around Prowl’s arm. Prowl growls at the hunter, holding Jazz’s arms. 

“Think of your sparkling, the medic said to not go out into the forest,” Triveil says, holding out his servo for his creation. 

“Why not, Prowler’s doin’ just fine out here with our sparkling,” Jazz tilts his helm to the side. Triveil glances to Prowl, sensory panels stiffen as the hunter looks at him. 

“You’re sparked?” Triveil frowns and steps closer to him. Prowl growls, grip tightening on Jazz’s arms. “You need to come see a medic to make sure the sparkling is doing alright.”

“Praxians have no need for medics,” Prowl growls, slipping out of Jazz’s arms, he disappears back into the cave. He glances back at the entrance, the smell of both hunters fade and his sensory panels dip low on his back. 

 

Prowl onlines to the smell of cyberwolves outside the cave, moving to the entrance he sees a pile of them. Ratchet and Ironhide’s scent lingers in the cave. If they didn’t get these cyberwolves, then who did? The screen of a data-pad gleams in the starlight and he onlines it, one of Jazz’s data-pads filled with stories. Did they leave him cyberwolves? He glances around but doesn’t see them. Why would outsiders help a Praxian?


	33. Chapter 33

Prowl growls as the pain magnifies in his chest and slightly below his chest. His claws scrape his armor as he sits up from the berth. His vents heave as his frame heats. “Ratchet!”

The black Praxian guard walks in, Prowl groans, how could it be that Ratchet is out on a hunt when he needed him. “Ratchet’s out on a hunt. Do you need me to call him back?”

“No, my frame’s just going to explode,” Prowl growls at the black guard. “Yes, I need him back unless you want to help me get this sparkling out of me.”

“He’s on his way, it may take a while,” Ironhide says, Prowl groans and falls back on the pillow padded berth. Just great stuck with the pain of a separating sparkling. Prowl looks down to his frame, the armor along his chest plates start separating with sticky Energon webbing across the crack. He grimaces as he watches it continue to separate, optics dimming as the Energon caves in and the pain stops. “The sparkling is ready to come out, it might drown if you don’t.”

“What do I do, reach in and pull it out?” Prowl glances up at the mech with a look of disgust, sensory panels hiked up on his back. 

“You expect the sparkling to crawl out?” Ironhide huffs and walks over to him. Prowl holds up his servos to stop the mech and reaches one servo into his opened frame. The sticky Energon coats his white servo and he gags a little. He feels something soft, it brushes against his servo and he stills. 

“Is it supposed to be soft?” Prowl asks, propping himself up on the berth with his other arm. Ironhide nods and he slips his servo under the soft bundle of being before pulling it out. He pushes himself back on the berth as his chestplates close and the sticky Energon starts to dissolve. He stares down at the little sparkling curled up in his servo. The small Praxian’s body expands with each vent. He smiles at the sight, spark melting when the small creature turns in his servo and his other servo instinctively comes up to brace the sparkling against his frame. One thumb runs over the small helm with a gentle and barely touching rub. Ratchet walks into the room and he glances up at the red and white guard. “He’s so small.”

Prowl traces the silver highlights along the black frame, the smile never leaving his face as Ratchet comes over to scan them to make sure they are fine. “What are you going to name him?”

“ArmorKnight,” Prowl glances up at the two guards. Ironhide looks at him with bright optics, Ratchet smiles down at him. 

"A nice name for the little bitlet,” Ironhide says walking over to them. Prowl nods and shifts his hold on the sparkling which makes the small Praxian online and look up at him with bright cream colored optics, the perfect mixture of Jazz’s silver and his gold. Small claws flex as they reach out to his face. He holds out one of his claws to the sparkling to play with and laughs quietly as the sparkling grabs onto it and tries to put it in his mouth. 

“Prowler,” Jazz’s voice comes from the entrance and Prowl glances up, the sparkling coos and reaches one small servo out towards the sound. 

"Ironhide, will you get Jazz,” Prowl asks, Ironhide mutters to himself but goes to get the outsider. Moments later, Jazz walks into the cavern and Prowl scoots over on the berth to let Jazz sit beside him. “Jazz, meet ArmorKnight.”

“Huh?” Jazz glances at the sparkling in his arms. “Wait, that’s our little sparkling?”

“Yes,” Prowl smiles and presses a kiss to Jazz’s lip plates. The sparkling reaches out to Jazz and Prowl carefully transfers the sparkling over to the silver mech. Jazz smiles down at the sparkling and Prowl smiles as he watches Jazz. Spark pulsing warmly as he sees the love in Jazz’s face. The sapphire visor retracts and he sees the silver optics shimmering with love. Prowl wraps his arms around Jazz’s waist and pulls him close. He presses a kiss to the other’s audio before whispering in it. “I would like you to stay here. I’ll try to make the cave as comfortable for you as possible. I know it isn’t anything like your estate but-“

“Prowl, my Sire bought us a house,” Jazz smiles and holds the sparkling close to his chest. 

“Jazz, we can’t go into the village,” Prowl frowns and reaches to take the sparkling away from the outsider. 

“I know that, and the house is a cottage out in the middle of the forest, quite a distance away from any outsider posts. It’s a little run down but we could fix it up. Come, we can go and see it and if you don’t like it then we can live in a cave.”

“Fine,” Prowl says taking the sparkling back from his bonded and stands. Ironhide and Ratchet follow the two mechs out of the cave. Prowl rubs the sparklings back as they travel through the forest, past the cavern that holds their previous clan. He frowns as he passes and knows he can never show ArmorKnight to his family. His only family consists of the sparkling and the outsider and the sparklet the outsider carries. ArmorKnight coos at the sight of the clear crystal leaves making rainbows in the sky. Prowl grabs one and pulls it off the tree to give to the sparkling. ArmorKnight holds the leave close and tries to take a bite out of it. “You don’t want to eat that.”

“He looks Praxian,” Jazz says looking over his shoulder at the two. “Wonder what this little one will look like.”

“Probably an outsider,” Ironhide huffs as he pushes aside a branch. Jazz glares at the larger mech. Prowl puts his servo over Jazz’s shoulder. 

“Do not challenge him, he will win,” Prowl whispers and glances up at the clearing. A small white and blue cottage sits surrounded by a small grove. The cottage has crystal walls, they shimmer in the light trickling through the branches of the trees. Ratchet and Ironhide come to a stop beside the two mechs. 

“This cottage is untouched from the raids,” Ironhide says, Prowl notices Jazz smiling widely.

“Sire and I found it on a hunt and Sire went to the property office in the village and asked about the cottage in the woods. No one claimed it so we bought it.”

“Jazz, I don’t know what to say,” Prowl says shifting the sparkling in his arms. Jazz wraps his arms around Prowl’s arm.

“Say you’ll move in?” Jazz looks up at him pleadingly. Prowl smiles and nods. 

“As long as Ratchet and Ironhide can stay with us,” Prowl says glancing back at the guards who stare at the house. Jazz chirps and pulls Prowl into the cottage. The porch crystal creak as they step onto the planks. 

“Now, I don’t know what it looks like inside, I didn’t even go inside,” Jazz says as he pulls on the door handle. The door doesn’t budge and he frowns at it. Prowl places his servo on Jazz’s and pushes and the door opens easily. Jazz sighs and follows Prowl into the house. Crystal lights glow as Prowl steps into the hallway and pictures framed in gold crystals hang from the wall. He stops at one to see a family of Praxians. Fourteen small Praxians stand in front of two adult Praxians. The adult Praxians look like his creators. He touches the picture and glances at another one. His Carrier stands with his Sire, both smiling and holding a smaller version of Smokescreen. 

"How did you find these pictures?" Prowl glances at Jazz. Jazz looks at the pictures. 

“I didn’t, I never been in here before, I don’t even think my Sire came in,” Jazz frowns and sees the smaller version of Smokescreen. “That kinda looks like your brother.”

“It is, I think this was their home,” Prowl glances at Jazz, with a small smile. He holds out ArmorKnight before exploring the house. The small hallway leads to a living room filled with crystal furniture, the overhelm crystals glow as he walks around the room. He picks up a data-book and onlines it to see Praxian Times, a news article. He glances over the table to see a small crystal figurine in the starting phases and glances around the room to see a small shelf in the corner near the window. A small sitting area sits in front of it. He turns to go explore the other parts of the cottage. The kitchen joins the living room and he frowns when two sparkling cubes sit still sealed out on the counter. It must have been the day of the raid and they left everything like how it is. He turns and sees the stairs leading up to the second floor. He tests the strength of the first stair and deems it safe before climbing the stairs, finding them sturdier than he thought they would be. He enters a hallway with five doors. The door just at the staircase is open a little and he peeks in. A nursery with two cribs and three sparkling berths. He walks to one of the cribs to see a blanket with a designation on it. One of his siblings. He touches the blanket lightly before turning to the other crib, smaller than the first. 

Prowl. The glyph that reads on the other blanket. He picks up the black and white blanket, thumb rubbing over the glyphs servo sewed in the material. Did his Carrier make this? Was he even separated and did he recharge in this berth? He glances at the other berths to see blankets with the glyphs of his siblings on them, So many things left behind in the raid. Did his creators purposefully live out here and away from the village? Why couldn’t they have stayed since this cottage was untouched by outsiders? He walks into the other room to see it filled with small desks and toys littering the floor. A little blue and white cyberwolf stuffed animal lies on the floor and he picks it up. On the paw is his designation. 

“I had toys,” he says quietly and holds the cyberwolf close to his spark. He walks into the next room to see five berths crowded into the room. Five more siblings. The next room holds five more berths. The last room had to be his creator’s berthroom. He hesitates to open the door. What if he found that he didn’t want to mess with the room, it would turn into his and Jazz’s berthroom. He bites his lip plate and pushes open the door. A canopy berth sits directly in front of the door. The gold see through canopy sparkles with small silver crystals, the sheets on the berth are a deep sapphire blue like Jazz’s visor. A dark ruby red chest sits at the end of the berth and he steps up to kneel in front of it. Opening the chest he finds blankets within it. On the top is a full mech blanket for his sibling who recharged in the other crib. He sets the blanket on the floor to see a deep ruby red and sapphire blanket with his designation on it. 

He pulls it out gently and unfolds it, crystal leaf patterns cover the material. The material is soft under his digits and he moves to sit on the berth, parting the veil as he does. The berth sinks under him like Jazz’s berth in his estate. He glances around the room to see various colored crystals embedded in the walls. He glances at Jazz when the outsider steps into the doorway. ArmorKnight not in his arms.

“I put him in the nursery, in the crib that had a blanket with your designation on it,” Jazz says stepping into the room. “Is that alright?” 

Prowl nods and sets his blanket aside as he stands and walks over to Jazz. He cups the outsider’s helm as he leans closer to kiss him. Gently pulling the smaller mech to the berth, he pushes aside the canopy and drags Jazz onto the berth and over his frame. He holds the others hips as he kisses the outsider’s neck. 

“I don’t ever want to be apart from you again,” Prowl whispers as he kisses Jazz’s audio. “If you eventually deactivate me, I don’t care. I love you, I love our sparklings. I need you, I want you.”

“Me too,” Jazz smiles and wraps his arms around Prowl’s neck. 

 

Ironhide and Ratchet walk into the house, slowly as if they were intruding on the previous occupant’s territory. Ironhide glances at Ratchet when they walk by the hall pictures and notices who the mechs are. 

“Prowl’s creators, this was Prowl’s house,” Ratchet frowns and glances around. “Where did they go?”

Ironhide shrugs and steps into the living room. “I didn’t know they had that many sparklings.” 

"I don’t trust the outsider, how do we know he’s not luring Prowl to his deactivation,” Ratchet frowns. 

“Seriously, even I don’t like the outsider but I doubt he’s going to deactivate Prowl now they have a sparkling together.”

“That’s the most vulnerable time in a Praxian’s life, when we have sparklings to look after,” Ratchet says and walks into the kitchen to see the stairs. 

“You seriously aren’t going up there,” Ironhide frowns as he looks over his shoulder at his bonded. Ratchet disappears up the stairs and Ironhide sighs before following his mate up the stairs and into the hallway. Prowl’s scream comes from the room at the end of the hall and Ratchet runs down the short hallway to open the door. He freezes when he sees Prowl’s spark chamber open and Jazz standing over him with his own open. “See.”

Ratchet punches Ironhide before pushing the black mech out of his way. “Where’s the sparkling since you know everything?”

“Why don’t you try the nursery?” Ironhide points to the door at the stairs which is partially open. Ratchet glares at the black mech.


	34. Chapter 34

Small chirps bring him out of recharge, the warmth of another mech’s frame covers his side and he turns to look at his mate. When he does look over, he sees the Praxian in complete peace, that is until he sees the gaping hole in the mech’s chest. 

“Prowler!” Jazz jumps to lean over the black and white Praxian, cupping the other’s faceplates. Energon tears rundown his faceplates, blurring his vision. “Who would do this?” 

Only his own overworking systems and fans answer him. Glancing around, the morning light filters in through the window and makes the gold canopy glow. How could anything make this still seem like nothing happened?

“Prowler,” Jazz cries again and touches the armor beside the gaping, rust covered, Energon speckled hole in his bonded’s chest. Another chirp comes, their sparkling. Jazz moves to get up from the berth when his servo lands on a crystal, Energon coated knife. Something blue on the floor catches his attention and he gets up to see what it is. He picks it up, turning it over in his servos until his processor tells him it’s the same size as the hole in Prowl’s chest. 

He collapses to the floor, vents heaving, spark racing and he only hears his spark until a small chirp comes. He glances at the door before crawling over to it and pulls himself up. 

“This has got to be a dream, ain’t no way Prowler’s deactivated,” Jazz says as he trembles and makes his way down to the nursery. Hesitating a pulse at the partially opened door of the nursery, he glances back into the berthroom to see Prowl still lying there and he notices the trail of servo prints in Energon along the wall to the nursery. Pushing open the door, he sees the crib with ArmorKnight squirming to be picked up. He walks to the crib and gently picks up and cradles the sparkling. “It’s alright little one, this is all a dream, Sire’s gonna pinch himself and this will all go away.”

Jazz cradles the sparkling in one arm while bringing his other out to pinch. He hisses in pain as the pinch actually hurts. 

“Okay baby, plan two,” Jazz smiles and carries Armorknight downstairs where Ironhide and Ratchet sit on the couch. “Okay, well, this is going to sound weird, but don’t worry, this is all a dream because I couldn’t really deactivate Prowl.”

Jazz scream when something hits him and smashes him into the wall. Instincts tell him to protect the sparkling so he curls his frame to shield the fragile being only to see the sparkling isn’t there. He glances to the black Praxian guard growling down at him and glances to the red and white Praxian. There Armorknight went. He sighs as the sparkling is safe. 

“You deactivated Prowl,” Ironhide growls and pulls him up with a servo around his neck. 

“This all has to be a dream,” Jazz grabs at Ironhide’s servo, blunt digits doing nothing to ease the crushing of his neck cables. “I’ll online and Prowl’s gonna be fine.”

“Online from this, outsider,” Ironhide growls, Jazz feels a tug on his spark and glances down. What he sees stops his spark pulse, the black servo disappears in his chestplates? His optics go white as searing pain of his spark being pulled in two lights his sensory net. Jazz coughs and screams and cries as his spark pulses hard. 

 

The scream rattles the cottage, every Praxian in the small house jumps at the pain laced scream. Prowl grunts as he lands on his panels on the floor of the berthroom. He winces as he rubs his helm when pain fills the sensory net in the area. The edge of his chevron is jagged and he glances around to see ruby shards by the berthside table. He frowns when he looks up to the berth and hears Jazz’s labored vents. 

“Jazz has got to be the strangest mech I’ve ever met,” Prowl shakes his helm and moves his sensory panels to access the damage, only a few pinched wires. He crawls back on the berth to see Jazz’s servos around the mech’s own neck and the silver mech gasping. Prowl rolls his optics and grabs Jazz’s wrist to pry the black servos out of the chokehold. How do outsiders not extinguish themselves? Prowl watches as Jazz pulls his servos back and starts clawing at his chestplates. Even with blunt outsider digits those black digits scrape enough to draw Energon. “Jazz, stop it. Jazz!”

“Jazz!” Jazz jumps in the darkness as Prowl screams his designation. Was this the afterlife? Was Prowl coming for revenge? A pull on his spark causes his sensory net to light in pain and he whimpers. Was he doomed to repeat that feeling? Was that how Prowl felt? “Jazz, you have to online. You’re trying to deactivate yourself. What happened to the sparklet?”

Sparklet. 

Oh. 

Jazz onlines his optics to see Prowl’s faceplates filling his view. Prowl jumps back slightly, optics dimming as he looks at him. 

“We’re going to need a medic,” Jazz says, sitting up as best he can with Prowl pinning his lower half. 

“Jazz, what is happening?” Prowl asks cupping his helm. “Are you deactivating?”

“Uh . . . no . . . the sparklet wants out,” Jazz frowns and sees the scrapes caked in Energon. “And something tried to get in.”

“You were trying to claw your spark out,” Prowl winces and licks the wounds. 

“So are ya gonna call a medic?” Jazz asks as he shifts on the berth. 

“Just open your plating,” Prowl says scooting closer to him. Jazz starts to move away but since he’s pinned he can’t, so he opens his chestplates for Prowl. 

“Wait, you’re not going to reach in me and grab the sparkling are you?”

“That’s how I got Armorknight out,” Prowl frowns and reaches into Jazz’s chest to cup the sparkling. Jazz takes in a deep vent as Prowl gently pulls the sparkling out and his chestplates snap shut moments after Prowl’s servos leave the chamber. He stares at the Praxian holding the sparkling. Her white frame shimmers in the light coming in through the window. Silver highlights run over her frame like Armorknight’s. “Do you want to name her Ivory?”

All he can manage as he looks at her is to nod and holds out his arms for her. She coos when she touches his arm and he smiles down at her. “She’s so precious.”

“I am going to get Armorknight so he can see his little sister,” Prowl presses a kiss to his helm. Jazz watches the Praxian leave and walk down the hallway he shivers a little when he remembers the Energon servo prints. He remembers what Prowl said last orn, a smile coming to his faceplates when he thinks of Prowl never wanting to be separated again. He doesn’t want to be separated again. He smiles up at Prowl when the Praxian returns with Armorknight curled in his arms. “Armorknight, here is your little sister.”

Armorknight turns a little when Prowl sits close enough to feel their fields mingle. The sparkling coos as he reaches for her, Prowl helps Jazz move Ivory to one arm and positions Armorknight in the other. Prowl smiles at him as he trails his digits over the sparkling’s helms. 

“They’re so cute,” Jazz smiles leaning his helm down a bit to press a kiss to each of the small helms. A knock on the door downstairs comes; the sparklings glance at the door to the hallway. Prowl growls towards the door. “It’s probably my Sire, he said he had some news about the village and I want him to meet these little cuties.”

“Do you want to go downstairs or stay up here?” Prowl asks as he trails kisses over the silver frame. 

“Probably go downstairs,” Jazz hands Armorknight to Prowl and scoots off the berth as another knock comes. 

“There is an outsider outside,” Ironhide hisses as he peeks out of the window in the front room. “What is he doing here?”

“He’s here with news and to see these little bitlets,” Jazz smiles as he gently bounces Ivory in his arms. Prowl gives Armorknight to Jazz before he goes to answer the door. Ratchet watches the doorway into the front room as Ironhide motions that the outsider is in the house. Jazz glances over his shoulder and the back of the couch when Prowl walks in with Triveil in front. He smirks a little at the thought of Prowl refusing an outsider walking behind him. 

“Jazz,” Triveil smiles as he walks into the room and around the couch. Jazz smiles to his Sire, laughing when his sire gasps at the two sparklings. “Both of the sparklings so soon?” Triveil looks up to Prowl when the Praxian sits on the back of the couch behind Jazz. “Are these both healthy? I know you won’t let a medic see them but surely you would want to know if they were.”

“They are both healthy and strong,” Ratchet says, crossing his arms and glaring at the outsider. “I am the closest thing Praxians have to a medic.”

“Jazz said you have news,” Prowl says looking down at the outsider.

“Right,” Triveil says, frowning a bit as he glances at Jazz. Jazz holds the sparklings closer. “I have good news concerning Praxians, I have talked to the other bunters in the village and no one from this village will hunt Praxians any longer.”

“Is that supposed to make you our friend?” Ironhide asks, stepping closer to the mech. Prowl holds up his servo slightly. “How many Praxians have you deactivated in your small span of life?”

“Ironhide,” Prowl frowns as he stands from his seat. 

“Are you blind to what he’s done now he’s less than a pede away from your sparklings, Praxian sparklings,” Ironhide jabs a digit at Prowl’s chest. 

“I am well aware of where he is located in this room, do not for a pulse think I am not ready to defend my sparklings from him. He is as much of family as Jazz and you are. As much as you hate it, he does have a right to see his grandcreation. My creators have every right to see their grandcreations but they chose to banish me because of Jazz. To them, I am deactivated and those to do not exist.”

“Ironhide, the kid’s right,” Ratchet takes Ironhide’s servo. “He could have refused our help but he chose to let us come to his clan. Whether he asserts it or not, he is our alpha. We follow his lead.”

“He’s going to get us deactivated,” Ironhide pulls his arm away and growls in the direction of the outsider.

“Ironhide, if you can’t stand the outsider, then leave the room,” Prowl frowns and motions to the door. “I am very much capable with one outsider in the room.”

“Jazz is—“

“Jazz is my mate, he is every bit as a Praxian in this clan as you are,” Prowl growls, Ironhide growls at the outsiders before stalking out of the room. Ratchet frowns at the doorway before following, Jazz frowns down at his sparklings; they look up at their Sire with confused awe. Jazz bounces the little ones and turns them toward Triveil. 

“Hey little ones, this is your grandsire, he’s the one who is going to spoil you,” Jazz smiles and moves the sparklings on the couch so they can move on their own. He sits on the floor to make sure they stay on the cushions. Prowl sits on the arm of the couch to watch them squirm. 

“He can’t spoil them too much,” Prowl frown as he looks down at Jazz. “They do need to learn how to hunt.” 

A knock comes at the door and Jazz glances up at Prowl who makes no move to answer it. “Fine, I’ll get the door, not like I would prevent my own Sire from harming my creations.”

Jazz notices Prowl’s smirk as he gets up to answer the door. Where did Ratchet and Ironhide leave to so fast? He reaches the door as another knock comes and opens it to see the red and blue mech. 

“Orion, what are you doing here?” Jazz asks noticing a larger silver mech behind him. “You must be Megatron.”

“I . . .” Orion glances back at Megatron before looking back at him. “I smelled a new alpha. This is Prowl’s home?”

“Yeah,” Jazz smiles.

“Would it be alright if we stayed here for a while? There are new hunters around the woods. They found our cavers past the fountains.”

“Uh . . .” Jazz glances in the hallway, not really expecting to see anything or any certain Praxian. “My Sire’s here.”

“Oh . . . right,” Orion Pax glances at Megatron again. “One outsider compared to hunters. I’ll take my chances in the alpha’s house.”

“Alrighty then,” Jazz steps aside to let the two mechs in. he leads them down the hallway to the living room where Jazz sees Prowl holding Ivory and his sire holding Armorknight. He stops in the doorway when he sees Prowl smiling and his Sire talking to the Praxian as if they were friends. He takes it in before stepping into the room and hoping that he won’t make Prowl aggressive. Prowl glances up with a smile on his faceplates and transfers Ivory to Triveil. 

“Orion, Megatron, I wasn’t expecting you so early,” Prowl walks up to them and Jazz frowns as he glances from Prowl to his Sire. Did he miss something?

“You just left our sparklings with my sire, an outsider,” Jazz frowns. “Not that I’m saying it’s a bad thing, it’s just not like you—“

“If Triveil wanted to hurt them, he would be hurting you, I know he would never hurt you,” Prowl rolls his optics and leads the two mechs up to the second floor. 

“Are you two running an inn or something?” Triveil asks, setting the sparklings on the couch. 

“I have no idea,” Jazz plops down beside the sparklings. “I have a crazy mech for a bondmate.”

“I could have told you that, he’s Praxian,” Triveil smirks and tickles Ivory then tickles Armorknight. 

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Prowl smirks at them while standing at the doorway. Triveil jumps and Jazz laughs at his Sire’s reaction. “Being a Praxian is not as bad as you think; we are not animals, no more than your kind made us. We only hunt to survive not trophy around a corpse. What we don’t consume we turn it into something we use,” Prowl picks up a bowl from the table, the inside shines with rainbows while the outside is silver. “Take this bowl for instance, it was crafted before the raids but it is still part of an animal,” Prowl says holding it out to Triveil. “It is made from a cyberbear’s skull. My sire made one just like this in the caverns, so this is probably one he made when he was younger.”

“We could learn a thing or two from them,” Jazz says, Triveil nods as he gives the bowl back. 

“I should get back before it gets dark,” Triveil says and starts to walk out. 

“Have Ratchet escort you back,” Prowl says, Triveil starts to say something but Ratchet steps into the doorway. Triveil nods, smiles at Jazz before walking to Ratchet. Jazz waves as his Sire leaves. Prowl turns to him. “Now that we are alone,”

“But Orion and Megatron –“

“Are busy upstairs,” Prowl smiles as he moves the sparklings to the floor and pulls Jazz onto the couch. 

“What about them?” Jazz frowns as he glances at the sparklings.

“They’ll be fine,” Prowl smiles pulling Jazz’s helm to kiss him. Jazz glances at the sparklings again. Prowl chuckles and pins Jazz to the couch. His panels flare out as he looks down at the smaller mech. He smiles when Jazz glances up at his sensory panels. Jazz reaches up to touch one and Prowl leans down to let the other touch it. 

A knock comes at the door, Jazz growls and Prowl laughs quietly. “Why don’t we both go see who it is?”

Jazz nods, stealing a quick kiss before they get up to go to the door. He slips his servo into Prowl’s clawed one. Prowl opens the door, Jazz peeks around the Praxian to see a bright yellow sensory paneled Praxian and a bright red mech who is obviously an outsider. The yellow Praxian has big blue optics that cycle back and forth between him and Prowl. 

“You’re the alpha,” the yellow mech says and looks at him. “You must be Jazz, oh, it’s so nice to meet you.”

He nods slightly; the yellow Praxian practically pushes Prowl aside to get to him. Jazz glances at Prowl when the mech wraps his arms around him. He looks to the red mech for help. He jerks as the yellow bot kisses him, pinning him to the wall. Prowl chuckles a little before tapping the yellow Praxian on the shoulder. Jazz jumps away from the mech and rubs his plating where the other touched him. He stares as the yellow Praxian moves to kiss Prowl. Prowl leans away just as he did with Orion. “Bumblebee, we are bonded.”

“Oh,” Bumblebee glances between the two. “I’m so sorry. Wow, this is not a very good way to ask to be in the clan.”

“Bumblebee, you are fine,” Prowl smiles, laying a servo on the younger mech’s shoulder. “You didn’t know.”

‘Uh . . . you can come in,” Jazz says, noticing the red mech hasn’t moved. Prowl nods as his attention turns to the red mech, he motions for the red mech to come in.

“Bumblebee’s a little . . .” the red mech frowns a little. 

“Touchy feely?” Jazz smiles as they follow Prowl and Bumblebee into the living room. “I kinda guessed that much when he grabbed me.”

“I’m sorry,” the red mech sighs. “I wasn’t expecting him to attack you like that. I’m Knock Out by the way.”

“Jazz,” Jazz holds out his servo, thankful the other mech shakes it. Bumblebee’s squeal rings out in the house as the Yellow Praxian sees the sparklings. 

“Did you carry both of these?” Bumblebee asks as he kneels beside the two sparklings. They look up at him, mostly looking at the yellow and black sensory panels. 

“Jazz carried Ivory, I carried Armorknight,” Prowl says, each sparkling glances up when their name is called. 

“Jazz is a carrier?” Orion Pax asks, Jazz glances around to all the mech’s optics on him. He bites his lipplates as he steps closer to Prowl. Only when Prowl’s servo touches his back does he relax.

“Why are they all staring at me?” Jazz whispers to Prowl. 

“It’s uncommon for a Praxian to find an outsider sparkmate who is a carrier,” Prowl responds, wrapping his arm around his shoulder and growling lightly at the others. The Praxians seem to snap out of it and glance at one another. 

“They kinda turned a little out for fresh Energon,” Jazz looks up at Prowl. The Praxians stare at him confused. “You guys don’t know anything about vampires, right.”

“We would never eat you,” Bumblebee gasps and grabs his arms, bright blue optics cycling wide. Knock Out slaps his forehelm and shakes his helm. 

“That’s cannibals Bee,” Knock Out holds out his servo for the Praxian. Jazz sighs in relief as the youngling chooses to go to the red mech. 

“We should all get some rest, the Praxians will be hunting next orn,” Prowl says as Jazz picks up Armorknight and he picks up Ivory. They lay the sparklings in the crib before heading to their berthroom. 

“Why exactly are they here?” Jazz asks as they climb on the berth for recharge. Prowl glances over at the mech as he steps through the gold canopy. 

“A Praxian without a clan is a Praxian without a hunting party, we are weaker by ourselves,” Prowl states as he cups Jazz’s helm. “We scout alone but we hunt in packs. The more hunters we have in a party, the less likely one of us gets harmed. You and the other outsiders can get acquainted while we get our food.”

“Can you happen to go by the village and bring me an Energon cube?” Jazz smiles and pouts a little. “I mean, I don’t know about Megatron and Knock Out but I still rather have my Energon from a cube than the tanks of the recently deactivated.”

“Soft tank,” Prowl smirks and kisses him before starting to turn on his front to recharge. 

“Prowler,” Jazz says Prowl glances up at him. “You know no one’s going to stab you in the spark, right? You don’t have to be defensive all the time.”

“I know, but . . . even though I am the alpha, my clan is only four Praxians,” Prowl frowns as he looks at Jazz. “Armorknight and Ivory are too young to defend for themselves. It’s technically a clan at all, it’s a hunting party.”

“But I want to cuddle,” Jazz whines and outs, Prowl smirks and wraps his arms around Jazz’s waist. 

“You could have just said that,” Prowl presses a kiss to the mech’s helm. Jazz huffs in his arms but wraps his arms around his waist to snuggle closer. Prowl smiles as Jazz buries his helm into his chest. He rubs the others back until Jazz falls into recharge. 

 

Jazz onlines to an empty berthroom, well, besides two little sparklings curled up at his side in recharge. He smiles down at them, trailing his digits gently down their small helms. “My adorable little sparklings.”

Gently picking them up, he carries them downstairs to see the other mechs already up and with Energon cubes in their servos. Jazz smiles slightly as he sets the two in the play pen Prowl brought down from the play room. The sparklings chirp at each other before noticing the toys around them. He smiles before joining the other mechs on the couch. 

“Do you think we are supposed to . . . eat . . . what they bring back?” Megatron asks, grimacing as he looks down at his cube.

“I certainly hope not,” Knock Out gags; Jazz frowns as he looks at the two mechs. 

“You mean your mates never tried to make you eat stuff?” Jazz continues to frown when they shake their helms. 

“But of course we didn’t have an alpha as a mate,” Knock Out smiles as he takes a sip from his cube. Jazz huffs and crosses his arms before glaring at the cubes.

“He wasn’t always one you know,” Jazz says as an itch begins on his arm. He frowns down at his arm as he scratches. Maybe he’s allergic to something here? “Is there any more cubes?”

“No, they only brought two cubes,” Megatron smirks. “Prowl said that he would provide for his own.”

“Great, that probably means I won’t get a cube,” Jazz pouts with his arms crossed as he sits on the couch. Knock Out reaches over and pats him on the helm. 

 

Prowl glances back at the other Praxians, well at least towards where they hunt. He steps up to the edge of the village, his frame takes on the colors around him as he stands by the entry post. None of the outsiders seemed to know he was there, that is until a sparkling comes up to him. 

“Your armor is so pretty,” the sparkling asks touching his leg. Prowl glances up to see everyone looking at him and he starts to back away. His armor takes on its normal appearance. He freezes when the sparkling grabs his claws. “Wait, don’t leave.”

Prowl watches as the outsiders come closer; he tries to move away from the sparkling. What if Triveil was wrong and they decide to deactivate him? Would he be able to get out without harming anyone? “I’ve only come for a cube of Energon for my mate.”

Maybe if they knew why he was here they’d let him get it and leave. One outsider reaches him and he stills, at least he had enough sense to fold his sensory panels down. 

“Prowl, why don’t you come in the village?” the mech asks motioning him in. Prowl flinches, how did the outsider know his designation? The outsider leads him into the village and he watches every mech’s and femme’s move. What if they attack him, was he even allowed to defend himself? He reaches a block from Jazz’s estate when someone says his designation.

“Prowl,” Triveil smiles and walks up to him. “I’m glad you could make it to the village. I was hoping you would come.”

“I just came for Energon cubes,” Prowl says stepping away from the outsider. “They are for Jazz.”

“In time, you’ll get Energon cubes for them, why don’t you stay a while? I’m sure the sparklings would like to meet you,” Triveil smiles, Prowl frowns and glances over his shoulder. The other Praxians stand in the tree line and watch him. 

“There’s more,” one of the outsiders says and points at the tree line.

“Why don’t you tell your friends to come down?” Triveil smiles, Prowl glances around. No weapons are out but that doesn’t mean they didn’t have them. He had his weapons but of course they melded into his frame unlike the outsiders. He whistles, a whistle the outsiders can’t here, the whistle of an alpha. The other Praxians hesitantly walk into the village. Ironhide walks in last and he growls as outsiders try touching him. 

“Ironhide, calm, I don’t think they want to harm us,” Prowl says in Praxian which causes the outsiders around to stare at him. 

“This one has sensory panels,” an outsider says and touches Bumblebee’s sensory panels. Bumblebee whines and tries to jump away. 

“Bumblebee, once they have their fill of whatever they think they’re going to get we’ll leave,” Prowl says, again in Praxian and lets his sensory panels out. The nearest mechs hesitantly touch them. Ironhide steps closer to Prowl, growling at the outsider. “Stand down, they are not hurting me.”

In truth, they were barely touching his panels as if they thought the smallest of touches could break them. He glances at his sensory panels, they did look fragile but that was just the light reflecting off the facets. A sparkling taps on his leg armor and he glances down to see the little outsider too small to reach his panels. He kneels for the sparkling to touch them and the outsiders gasp when the sparkling grabs on in a hug. Prowl chuckles at their worried expressions, apparently Triveil told them the panels were fragile to get them to not touch them. 

“Why do only two of you have panels while the others don’t?” an outsider asks. 

“Ratchet and Ironhide, the red and white Praxian and the black Praxian are guards; guards do not normally have sensory panels. Orion Pax, the red and blue Praxian, once had panels but outsiders removed them.”

“That’s why we don’t like outsiders, at least I don’t like outsiders touching them,” Bumblebee says and steps away from the outsiders around him. 

“We are not used to being around so many outsiders,” Prowl looks around where he kneels as more outsiders come up to the group. His sensory panels begin to quiver. 

“We are leaving,” Ratchet growls in Praxian as he grabs Prowl’s shoulder, “whether you get Jazz’s Energon or not.”

The outsiders immediately back away, some even tumble over others. Even Triveil looks surprised and cautious. 

“What?” Ratchet asks as he looks at the outsiders.

“We thought Prowl was your leader,” one outsider says frowning as he glances at Prowl. 

“He is, I’m one of his guards,” Ratchet glares at the outsider. 

“Why don’t you take the others back and I’ll get Jazz’s Energon,” Prowl nods to and backs away from Ratchet. 

“Fine,” Ratchet growls, the outsiders look on in confusion mixed with awe as the Praxians speak in Praxian.

 

Jazz frowns as he continues to scratch his arm, the silver paint begins to tear and he goes up to the berthroom. Knock Out and Megatron could watch the sparklings. He walks into the washracks to find more paint, only there isn’t any paint. Of course, why would Praxians need paint? They had their own colorful crystal armor. He growls as he starts another scratching fit, this time a large piece of silver paint chips off. He frowns as deep silver shows through. His protoform, he places his servo over the gash in his arm. How could he just scratch off his armor?


	35. Chapter 35

He hears the door open downstairs and steps down the stairs a little. He sees the Praxians walk into the house, Orion passes by the doorway. “Orion, could you come upstairs with me?”

“Sure,” Orion Pax says and follows him up. He fidgets a little before turning around to face the red and blue Praxian. 

“Do you still have your paint or maybe some of Megatron’s paint?” Jazz asks, Megatron was an outsider and silver, a few shades off from him though. 

“I’m sure Prowl will be able to get your paint from the village, Triveil was right, they aren’t hunting us anymore,” Orion Pax smiles. 

“Prowl’s in the village?” Jazz frowns as the itch begins to grow. 

“Yeah, they were fascinated by Prowl and Bee’s sensory panels,” Orion says leading them to the room by the nursery and to the silver cans in the corner. 

“Did something happen between Prowl and Bumblebee?” he asks as Orion hands him the can. Bumblebee went to kiss Prowl, were they together sometime? 

“Jazz,” Orion smiles, servos resting on his shoulders. “Prowl is yours now. He can’t be with anyone else. You don’t need to feel jealous.”

“Was there?” he continues to frown the sinking feeling in his spark begins to grow.

“Yes, just one time,” Orion Pax sighs, Jazz nods and carries the paint can to Prowl and his room. “He wanted you there, it was in his field.”

“Just like he’s making me stay here?” Jazz asks, slamming the door in the Praxian’s faceplates. He frowns down at his peeled paint. He starts painting, trying to make it not as noticeable but decides to just repaint his whole forearms. Jazz looks at his arms, it is noticeable. He falls to the floor as he stares at the armor on his arm, well the paint hiding his protoform. 

 

Prowl glances over his shoulder as the outside sparklings follow him around the village. He smiles as they chirp to themselves. How could they be so wrong about these outsiders? Did Triveil have that much influence over the village? Was he this clan’s alpha?

“Jazz likes Energon treats, do you think we could pick some out and you take them to him for us?” one of the sparklings asks. 

“I would be happy to,” Prowl kneels down in front of the sparkling. “I am sure he would appreciate them.”

Prowl allows the sparklings to drag him to the vendor, he smiles at the femme behind the table. Again he forgot about credits.

“I do not have any credits,” Prowl frowns as he glances at the sparklings cooing over the treats. The femme smiles and hands him a crystal leaf. 

“I’ve heard only Praxians can shape the leaves,” the femme says as Prowl takes the leaf.

“What do you want it formed as?” Prowl asks, the femme replies with a crystal stag. He finishes pulses later with the sparklings staring at awe at him. The sparklings suddenly run off and he frowns after them. They return moments later with leaves clutched in their tiny servos. He chuckles a bit and sits on the ground as the femme boxes up the treats. He begins shaping the leaves into animals for the sparklings. They squeal and chirp as he finishes each animal. 

“Can you teach us how?” the smallest sparkling asks climbing onto his lap. Prowl smiles, taking the sparklings servo in his and helps the sparkling form a cyberbear. He finishes with the leaves as the star begins to set and stands. The femme gives him the treats and he takes the basket of Energon and heads to the house. 

 

Orion Pax frowns as he returns to his room in the house, Jazz’s paint is chipping. It reminds him of when his paint used to get old and had to be stripped and reapplied. Do outsiders have that same problem? Megatron loved repainting him when the time came. He wonders if Prowl has painted Jazz yet. 

He glances back at the door at the end of the hall to see it still closed and heads down the stairs. 

 

Prowl opens the door to the house and steps in, the rooms are quiet and empty. The star has set outside. Jazz probably thought he wouldn’t come back. He goes up to the master berthroom to see Jazz in the washracks off to the left. The room smells like paint and he sees Jazz’s armor a darker silver than before. Maybe he should get Jazz some paint. 

He steps into the washracks to see paint chips surrounding the smaller mech. He carefully picks up his mate and lays him on the berth before taking an Energon cube out and setting in it on the berthside table on Jazz’s side. He climbs on the berth beside Jazz and wraps his arms around his mate. 

 

Jazz onlines to Prowl’s helm on his chestplates. When did Prowl come back? The smell of an Energon cube reaches him and he glances over at the table. Reaching for it, Prowl shifts beside him but doesn’t online. Cube in servo, he takes a small sip. It’s slightly sweetened and he hums in happiness. At least he won’t have to eat frame parts. 

 

The next time Jazz onlines, he’s alone on the berth. Not even the sparklings are on the berth with him. He also sees that his paint is peeling again. Frowning down at his frame, Megatron wouldn’t get cheap paint, would he?

Standing he nearly stumbles as most of the pain along his front falls to the floor. The dark grey of his protoform is the only thing covering his vulnerable insides. Great, if the paint doesn’t want to stay on his protoform, he’ll have to go around like this. Wait, but wasn’t armor thicker than a paint layer? Protoforms are dark grey, everyone knows that, it’s taught in programming. Where did his armor go, shouldn’t this be his armor? He flicks a digit against it, it pings like armor does. Maybe his base armor is dark grey. 

He jumps when Prowl comes into the room and stares at him. He has half a processor to cover himself up but if this is his armor then he has nothing to worry about. 

“Why do you keep changing the color of your armor?” Prowl asks coming up to him. Those claws gently run along his arm. Without the paint, Prowl’s claws snag on the armor and end up shredding it as if it were nothing. Prowl jerks back as if the touch burned him. He frowns as he doesn’t feel any pain from the tear. Shouldn’t armor tearing be painful? Prowl cautiously touches his armor again but those sharp Praxian claws tear into the soft metal even more. 

He whimpers a little, Prowl can never touch him again? 

“Perhaps you should go to a medic,” Prowl frowns taking his servo, the moment the crystal armor of the Praxian slides along the grey soft metal, it dissolves. Jazz yelps at the sight of his armor dissolving and jumps away to examine his servo. He frowns when he sees not wires and vital systems but dark silver armor like coating. He taps his digit against the table to find the coating as hard as any armor there is. He feels something vibrating in his digit from tapping it and slowly the dark grey up his arm dissolves as the vibration travels along his frame. Seventeen pulses later the dark grey soft metal armor is all dissolved and he stands with that coating covering every part of his frame and feeling himself vibrating. 

Prowl stands a few pedes from him shocked still. He frowns at his bondmate. Prowl takes a step closer, the vibrating in his frame grows the closer Prowl gets to him. Everything stops when Prowl’s servo touches his shoulder, he trembles as he looks up to his bondmate. Prowl tilts his helm, leaning down, their lipplates meet softly. There’s a soft glow behind Prowl’s chestplates and the Praxian parts them. Jazz sees the spark shield glowing, frowning a little. Prowl’s claws trail along his chestplates and he parts them slightly to see not just the glow of his spark but another glow, something matching Prowls. 

Opening his chestplates more Prowl pulls away slightly, claws moving to the second glow. “You have a spark shield.”

Weren’t Praxians the only ones to have that? Why would he have one? He’s not a Praxian. He’s an Outsider. Mechs don’t just turn into Praxians. Do they? 

Prowl’s lipplates find his again and he’s lifted onto his bonded’s hips. He’s trembling by the time their sparks merge. Something in his processor clicks and he falls limp in Prowl’s arms. 

 

“Jazz?” Prowl whispers by his audio. He onlines to the starlight shining into the room. Prowl stands over him as he lies on the berth. The canopy fabric is pulled back and the light from the star crawls along the berth. It touches his gray digits, the more they are in the light the lighter they become until they are a brilliant silver. The starlight travels up his frame and the dark gray turns to that stunning silver. A joor later Jazz lays on the berth, his frame is the light shining silver that looks similar to Prowl’s armor. “You are a Praxian.”

He frowns up at his bondmate. Prowl would know who is Praxian and who is not. Does that mean his frame changed him into a Praxian?

“You were always a Praxian, you were hidden under all the outsider layers,” Prowl says running his claws over the crystal armor. The vibrating comes and he realizes it is the crystal humming with Prowl’s. “You are so beautiful.”

“My Sire, how . . . how could he not know?” Jazz sits up making Prowl lean back. “What about my carrier?”

“One had to be a Praxian, it’s not unheard of a loan Praxian femme leaving the clan and finding an outsider,” Prowl says, claws still trailing over the silver frame. “Many in femmes in my clan did when I was a sparkling, though they always brought their sparklings back. She may have been able to hide her Praxian frame from outsiders.”

“What . . . I can’t . . . what will my Sire think?” Jazz frowns looking at his servos. They shimmer in the starlight and he notices he has claws like Prowl does. Reaching up to his forehelm, he frowns when he doesn’t feel a chevron. Prowl reaches up and traces something from the center of his forehelm to down below his optic. 

“I have never seen a Praxian with an inverted chevron,” Prowl says. “Your sire did say she was deactivated by Praxians, but I knew Orion was a Praxian when he touched my back and he had paint on. She must have had what you had. The Praxians never knew they deactivated one of their own.”

“How can I be a Praxian, I can’t do things Praxians do,” Jazz frowns.

“You were raised as an outsider,” Prowl looks down at him. 

 

Prowl watches as Jazz fidgets on the couch as they wait for Triveil to come. He watches Knock Out and Megatron gather around Jazz. It was most likely Jazz’s carrier was a guard, femme guards are unheard of and was probably banished. 

“What if my Sire doesn’t like me anymore?” Jazz frowns and glances up at him. 

“Jazz,” Prowl frowns, wondering if Jazz got sparked again with the rapid changes in mood. “Your sire is still your Sire. I have never known an outsider clan to disown their own creation. You have nothing to worry about. His view of me didn’t change when he learned I was Praxian. I doubt he will change his view and what his spark feels about you.”

“But what if he does?” Jazz frowns.

“The outsider is here,” Ironhide says stepping from the window and joining Ratchet in the kitchen. Prowl nods and leaves Jazz to open the door for the mech. Triveil and Prowl walk into the living room and Jazz stands to look at his Sire. 

“Hi Sire,” Jazz says and bites his lipplate. Prowl watches as Triveil’s expression never change to surprise or shock. Instead Triveil smiles a little. 

“I see you probably want an explanation,” Triveil says stepping up to Jazz and cupping his helm. “I knew your Carrier was Praxian, she came to me in Praxian armor. I have something to reveal of myself too.”

Triveil’s armor makes clicking and hissing sounds before falling away. A deep gray mesh covers his frame which he slowly takes off. Dark armor covers Triveil’s frame, the mech steps into the starlight and pulses later his frame is silver and deep red. 

“I am a Praxian, I have been. I met your Carrier and I told her that I was Praxian, she rather I keep my outsider appearance and give her one. When she had you we decided to raise you as an outsider. The hunters were coming and raiding Praxus of everything. Ivory and I tried helping the Praxians we came across, sending them to Vos to be safe. When the clan of Praxians deactivated your Carrier . . . I hated Praxians. They striped her of her armor, realized she was Praxian and turned on me. They were the first Praxians I stripped of armor and found that Praxian armor was worth many credits. It wasn’t until I met Prowl that I realized that I had made a mistake. I forgot that some Praxians were not like those.”

“You expect us to open our arms and allow you in our clan?” Ironhide growls, Ratchet holds the black Praxian back. 

“My clan has long been deactivated, now that Praxians are no longer hunted I suppose I should drop the outsider disguise,” Triveil says glancing from Ironhide to Prowl and back to Jazz. 

Prow frowns as something catches his attention, Triveil turns to talk with Jazz ask he slips out of the house. He scans the crystal tree line to see nothing out of order. Sound comes from the left and a Praxian steps out, the smell of more Praxians reach him. Smokescreen’s, his sire’s and carrier’s are among them. The members of the circle step out of the tree line, no doubt wanting to see who the new alpha is of the neighboring clan. 

“You’re the new alpha?” Smokescreen asks stepping closer to him. Prowl growls as the others step out and form a crescent around the cottage. 

“Is your outsider using our house, Prowl that was a house of Praxians and you soiled it with allowing an outsider live there,” his Carrier growls. 

“It is my clan’s house now,” Prowl growls as the circle members step up to him. “I had hoped that you, Creators and brothers, would have liked to see my creations.”

“Prowler?” Jazz says peeing out of the doorway. Prowl’s sire hisses as the Praxians see Jazz’s crystal frame. 

“What have you done, deactivated one of your own kind to give him crystal armor,” Prowl’s sire lunges for Prowl. Prowl dodges and glares at the Praxians. 

“If the thought or Outsiders and Praxians coexisting disgust you so much, why did you come?” Prowl asks. “Leave now before I call my clan to attack. You’ve disowned me, I owe you nothing.”

Ironhide and Ratchet step out and the other Praxians back away seeing the guards come out. 

“I’m sorry,” Jazz says stepping up beside him. 

“You have nothing to apologize for, it is their choice to not accept you,” Prowl turns to Jazz, pressing a kiss to his forehelm. “Whatever they want to think can stay in their processor. You and I have a clan to start.”

They turn back to the cottage, everyone now is standing out in front of the house, Orion Pax and Megatron, Bumblebee and Knock Out, Ratchet and Ironhide, and Triveil. As they head back something rustles in the woods. Prowl turns to see a small group of young Praxians, younglings, step out of the tree line. 

“Are you the new alpha? Are you really making a new clan?”

“Yes,” Prowl says kneeling as they come closer. He notices a few sparklings with them. 

“Can we join, we don’t want to live underground if we can live on the surface,” one of the younglings say. 

“I think we’re going to need a bigger cottage,” Jazz whispers to Prowl as more Praxians come out of the tree line. 

“That or start rebuilding Praxus,” Prowl smiles and pulls the smaller mech closer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally finished . . . . . . . . . . Or is it?


End file.
